


Unexpected Anomalies

by checkmate



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Rimming, Tony is a rich twat, a large cast of marvel cameos, for the kicks, slight DC crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 85,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkmate/pseuds/checkmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark has the whole of Erskine Academy under his thumb - from his class mates to the professors to the head teacher, no-one dares think about trying to challenge him - and he's hardly expecting this year to be any different. </p>
<p>But there's one thing he didn't account for. </p>
<p>A new room-mate by the name of Bruce Banner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first day of a new school year was always a mixed bag for Tony Stark. On one hand, it was his opportunity to get away from his father for several weeks on end. And of course, there were the countless corridor parties and dormitory rivalries, particularly between the first and third floors, which resulted in frequent flour bomb and water balloon attacks at three in the morning. And Tony got to hang out with people his own age, even if he refused to ever call them friends.

On the other hand, it was _school_ , and school just sucked. Annoying teachers and stupid amounts of homework and it was all just so _boring_ all the time. Tony was pretty sure that his junior year would not turn out any different to his freshman or sophomore years, except now there was yet another group of kids younger and weaker than him who he could act superior to, which was always a bonus.

But all in all, it was with a smile on his face that he jumped out of his father’s private helicopter on the playing field of America’s most exclusive high school, about fifty miles outside of New York City, his blazer sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his tie loose around his neck. Because he would put up with a lot more than irritating students and boring classes in order to get away from Howard for any period of time.

Howard scowled at him. The look was rarely missing from his face these days, particularly around his son. “Anthony, could you at least attempt to not be an embarrassment to me everywhere we go? Sort your uniform out, _now._ You are supposed to be a representative of this community and set a good example to the younger students, not look like some kind of hooligan.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but tugged his sleeves down anyway, knowing that there was no point arguing with his father, who was clearly putting on an image himself for everyone else, and also knowing that once he had fucked off (which Tony estimated would be in around three minutes’ time), he was free to do literally whatever he wanted until he went home for Christmas break.

“ _Tie_.”  Howard snapped, eyeing the offending garment as though it was dog shit on his shoe.

“I’m doing it, Jesus!” Tony snapped. Normally he would be tempted to deliberately tie it really short purely to piss off his father, but today, Tony just wanted Howard gone. Tony retied it perfectly and glared at Howard, who merely pursed his lips in return. Tony had learnt at a very young age that the pursing of lips was as far as his father ever went in terms of showing any sort of approval.

Clicking his fingers to indicate for Tony’s bags to be brought with him, Howard led the way towards the ominous building that was the entrance hall and boarding house of Erskine Academy.  It might have looked a little like Hogwarts from the outside, but unfortunately, classes were restricted to things like Math and Chemistry and World History, and, for some reason, Latin, even though, as Tony regularly pointed out, it is a dead language and therefore learning it would constitute a total waste of time, and not Transfiguration or Potions, which Tony thought he probably wouldn’t have preferred much anyway.

“Tony! How are you?”

“Hey Stark!”

“Good summer, Tony?”

Calls came from all directions as soon as he appeared in the driveway. He nodded to random people as he strolled past the awed sophomores and the terrified freshman who had only heard rumours of him, as they all made a path for him and his father through the crowd. He wouldn’t mind, but he didn’t even know any of them; they were just people who wanted to look cool by pretending they were on speaking terms, and Tony couldn’t be bothered with any of them.

Tony reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the front door, where a group of familiar faces were stood. “Thor.” Tony said, smiling a little. “Steve. Clint.” He looked down to where a pale guy with long dark hair was sat sullenly on the stone, picking absently at his fingers. “Loki.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling. The other boys snorted.

“For the last time,” He growled. “Stop fucking calling me Loki.”

Tony laughed, and went back to ignoring him as he usually did. “Good holiday?” Steve asked.

“Howard was being a total dick, but yeah, I guess so.” Tony said, looking over his shoulder to where his father was talking to Principal Fury in earnest, probably about how to spend his next generous contribution to the school board.

Steve frowned. “Tony, you shouldn’t talk about your father like that. He has always seemed perfectly okay whenever I’ve spoken to him.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but forced himself not to snap at the other boy. Steve had the habit of occasionally slipping into the etiquette of someone born a hundred years before he really was, and it’s not worth arguing over; it was just how Steve was, and Tony had learned to get used to it. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to live with him.” He said flatly. “Anyway, can we go up yet? I really want to get away from him as soon as possible.”

“Still locked.” Clint informed them, shaking his head.

“I’m sure it won’t be for too long.” Tony said cockily, as he walked over to where Fury and his father were talking, spoke to them for a few seconds, and walked away triumphantly waving the door key. “Easy.” He slotted the key into the heavy lock and turned it. “Home, sweet home, boys.” He muttered darkly, pushing the door open.

Even though it was a really mild September, the inside of the castle-like building was freezing. It’s like the school were yet to discover the power of central heating and wall insulation, and Tony shivered, as they began trudging up the multiple flights of stairs. All he could think was, at least he didn’t have to carry a term’s worth of luggage up with him, as his friends struggled behind him with heavy bags and suitcases.

The four boys all had rooms on the third floor; Clint shared with Steve, and Thor with his half-brother, Loki. Tony, as the son of the only reason this heap of stone was still a functioning educational facility, had his own room, much to his pleasure.

At least, he did _last year_. “What the _hell?”_ He said under his breath, eyeing the intrusion menacingly. Tony stormed back downstairs, and once again interrupted Howard and Principal Fury’s conversation. “Why exactly is there a _bag_ on the spare bed in my room?” He yelled angrily.

Silence quickly rippled across the entire driveway, a few faint shushes just about audible before Howard sighed. “Anthony, please don’t make a fuss over this.” Howard said quietly. “There was a shortage in boarding rooms and-”

“Then why didn’t you just not let the fucker in?” Tony fumed. “This is _not_ acceptable. I need my space and God knows you pay enough for this pile of bricks to give me _my own room._ ”

Fury rubbed his eyes with his hand. “Mr Stark...” He said uneasily. “Please, be reasonable. We made an exception for you for the past two years, but we don’t actually maintain a policy for students to have single rooms. It’s a waste of resources that we need in order to house new students.”

“Do you _really_ think I fucking care about that?” Fury pursed his lips at the ‘inappropriate’ language but didn’t say anything.

“Anthony, no amount of kicking, screaming or swearing is going to get rid of your new roommate.” Howard said firmly. “Now I suggest you go back up to your room and make friends.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest further, but Howard cut him off. “Anthony! Get your ass back upstairs right now before I pick you up and carry you up there myself!” He roared, breaking his cool for the first time. “I’m so sorry about this, Nick. I hope it doesn’t cause too much inconvenience for you.”

“No more than usual, I’m sure.”

“Inconvenience?” Tony screeched. “You want to talk about _inconvenience?”_

“Upstairs, now!”

*

“...and I could have _sworn_ she was going to go in for a bit of the renowned Barton charm, but, hey, maybe next time.” Clint finished, grinning widely. Several hours after the outburst in the drive, Tony, Steve, Clint and Thor were all sprawled across the floor in Clint and Steve’s room on various cushions and bean bags, eating bucket loads of potato chips and bitching better than any of the girls who were living two floors below.

Steve made a disbelieving noise. “Why the hell would Natasha Romanoff go on a date with you though? She’s beautiful. She could get any guy she wanted.”

“She was all over me last year.” Tony bragged. “Seriously, I nearly had her back in my room for a quick fuck, but I… um, decided against it.”

“You mean she never showed up.” Thor said, laughing.  “We could hear the angry phone call even from here.”

Tony shrugged. “Same difference.” And then he groaned. “I can’t let girls sleep over in my room any more, can I? This is such bullshit.”

“Not that the girls were ever really doing much sleeping, if what I hear from Pepper is much to go on.” Steve remarked between snacks. The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked into a brief knowing grin.

“Sharing a room isn’t even that bad, Tony.” Clint said reasonably, grabbing another handful of chips. “I’m sure the guy will be fine. It’s not like he’s going to dare to piss you off. He’ll probably be too terrified to even open his mouth.”

Tony frowned. “Yeah, but what if he tries to steal my stuff? And like, how am I supposed to jerk off in the middle of the night if there’s someone else in my room?”

Clint shrugged. “Never stopped me. Just hope that he’s a really deep sleeper like Stevie here. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he’s out. I could throw a rambunctious sex party in here and he wouldn’t wake up.”

Thor and Tony burst out laughing, as Steve’s face twisted in horror. “Barton, that is _disgusting_. I am never going to be able to sleep in here peacefully ever again.” Clint joined in the laughter too, and eventually, so did Steve. “But seriously, Clint, that is more information than I ever needed to know about your night time habits.”

Tony snorted. “Anyway, we’re already twenty minutes past curfew, I should probably go. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Thor got up to leave too. “Tony.” He said quietly. Tony turned to look at him quizzically. “Be pleasant.”

“What are you talking about? When am I not pleasant?” He grinned, as he returned to his own room.

Tony pushed the door open with a flourish. “Hello and welcome to the humble abode of one Mr Tony Stark. I hope you have a pleasant sta- Oh.” The room was empty. Tony frowned, and checked his watch. It was definitely way past the 10pm curfew, and the stranger’s bag was still sitting on the neatly made bed. “Whatever.”

Tony fished his iPod from his bag and plugged it into his ferociously loud stereo system which technically was not allowed to be played after ten o’clock but Tony really didn’t care. Black Sabbath filled the room and Tony felt at home once again.

He was laid out on his bed, flicking through a magazine and tunelessly singing along to the chorus of each song, when the door creaked open. He looked up, and rolled his eyes.

“You could at least knock, Jesus, someone needs to teach you some manne- Oh, it’s you, Coulson… What the fuck are you doing here?” He snapped. “Fuck off.”

“Stark, can you turn your music off please?” The older boy asked firmly. “Some people on this floor are trying to sleep.”

“One, it’s really none of your business what I do.” Tony smirked. “And two, I don’t have to listen to you, Philly.” He turned up the volume a few more notches and went back to his magazine.

A few seconds later, the music turned off completely. Coulson had unplugged the machine from the wall socket. “I think you’ll find you actually do have to listen to me, Stark. I have been made a prefect by Principal Fury and-”

“Oh, well, isn’t _that_ just excellent news.” Tony grimaced. He sat up and mock-saluted the boy sarcastically. “Well, I hope you have fun going about your prefectly duties, but if that’s all you wanted, can you please leave me alone? The music is off.”

Newly Appointed Prefect Phil stepped aside to reveal a small, dark haired boy standing behind him nervously. “Bruce, this is Tony Stark. Tony, this is your new roommate, Bruce Banner. Bruce, if- that is to say, when- you have a problem with Mr Stark, feel free to come and find me, and I’ll see what I can do. I’ll see you in the morning, boys. Play nice.” And with that, Coulson turned and walked back down the corridor to his special _single_ dorm room, with an en suite bathroom and a mini fridge, at the end of the hallway.

“Fuck you, Coulson!” Tony yelled after him, before looking at his new dorm mate properly for the first time. He was small and geeky, with big square glasses and a brace across his top row of teeth. Wild, dark curls fell across his forehead, and the boy kept brushing them out of his eyes nervously. Tony sighed. Well, wasn’t this going to be a bundle of laughs. “Um, I’m Tony. Tony Stark. My dad basically owns this place. I would really appreciate it if you don’t mess with any of my stuff.”

Tony looked at the other boy expectantly, and eventually Bruce realised that he was expected to introduce himself. “I’m Bruce Banner. It’s nice to meet you.” He swallowed uncomfortably, wringing his hands subconsciously. “And I won’t. Um, mess with your stuff, that is.”

Tony nodded, satisfied. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He said, smiling falsely, but even he could tell that Bruce could see through it. “Now, good night.”

They got into their respective beds without saying another word to each other, but Tony couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t used to having the gentle breathing of another human being in his room while he was sleeping. All he could think was, this kid better not fucking snore.

On the bright side, Bruce seemed to be a fairly deep sleeper. Maybe Tony could make do after all.

*

When he woke up, Bruce’s bed was empty. His clothes had all been folded and put away in his wardrobe neatly, and the kid had even remade his damn bed. Tony glanced at his clock. Seven o’clock. He groaned. Tony _hated_ mornings, and morning people, more than anything. At least Bruce had managed to wake, unpack and leave without waking him up. There was hope for him yet, Tony decided.

As he was scrabbling around in his suitcase for a clean pair of boxers and a shirt, the door reopened. “Morning, Bruce.” Tony said awkwardly.

Bruce stood in the doorway for a second, dressed in crisp school uniform, his hair wet and sticking in all directions and his skin still a little pink from the hot water. “Hi.” He replied, with equally as much awkwardness.

Tony did not like social situations. Tony picked his peers from the small group of people who he found vaguely interesting. He did not like making small talk with people who he barely knew. And it showed. “You were up early.” He states, with no idea what to say.

“Yeah, I, um, I go running in the mornings.” Bruce told him. “I didn’t wake you up, did I? I tried to stay as quiet as I could.” Tony shook his head, and Bruce let out a blindingly obvious sigh of relief. “Good.”

“I’m gonna go shower.” Tony said, grabbing his clothes and a towel from his bag, and practically running from the room, almost crashing into Thor in the hallway. “Shit, sorry.” He said distractedly.

“How’s the new guy?” Thor asked, eyeing the closed door warily.

“Quiet. A bit dorky.” Tony said after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m not quite sure yet.” Thor looked at him strangely. Tony had always prided himself on being a good judge of character, and the fact that Banner eluded him annoyed him to no end. But then again, they had only met a few hours ago. Tony was sure he’d work it out eventually.

After they had showered and reluctantly pulled on clean school uniform, they picked up Bruce from where he was reading in his room and shepherded him down to the canteen.

Everyone stared at the weird geeky kid accompanying Tony and his friends down to breakfast. Tony glared at as many people as he could until they looked away, and by the time they had reached their table with their food, most people had turned back to their toast.

“So, everyone, this is Bruce Banner. Bruce, this is everyone.” Tony said when the silence had become too uncomfortable even for him. He gestured at each person in turn. “Thor. He likes Norse mythology and football. Steve. He just likes America. And Clint. He likes chasing after unattainable women.” At that, Clint spun his head back around from where it had been seeking out the redhead on the other side of the room.

“I swear to you, I will get her… eventually.” He grumbled. “Nice to meet you, Bruce.”

*

Tony didn’t have any lessons with Bruce the first day, if he even had any lessons with Bruce at all, but that was possibly because they had to spend most of the morning sorting out their paperwork and details that the school office couldn’t be bothered to do. He saw him briefly at lunchtime, and again at dinner, and the new kid really hadn’t had a lot to say. And now Tony was watching Bruce do his homework like a dutiful little student as he himself read a motorbike magazine absently, while listening to his music, ACDC this time, through his headphones as to not disturb the other boy.

After an hour or so, Tony’s phone buzzed. “Hey Brucey. Clint’s throwing an impromptu start of term corridor party. You coming?” Tony said nonchalantly, throwing his magazine aside and rooting around in his still packed trunk for a pair of jeans, or at least, something that wasn’t school uniform.

Bruce looked up, looking slightly panicked. “Oh, um, no, I’ll just stay here, and… um. Work.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” He sighed. “Bruce… Listen up, this is important. There are a few things that are generally accepted as law in this corridor. One, we have a lot of parties. Two, they are generally amazing. Three, no-one does any work when they could be at a party. Well, no-one really does any work in general, but the rule only officially extends to cover the parties.”

“But-” He attempted to protest.

“Bruce. Let’s just break this down, shall we? You have already been given a _huge_ , and I mean _colossal,_ leg up in the social standing at this school by being, unwillingly I add, put in a room with me. And trust me; you will really need all the help you can get. Please, for your own sake, do not bail this party. Get out there, pull some random girl, meet some people, make some friends, get slaughtered on cheap alcohol, I don’t care. Just don’t you dare sit in here all night doing-” Tony peered over his shoulder. “Your English homework.”

Bruce dropped his pen. “Fine.” He agreed half-heartedly.

“Ding ding!” Tony grinned. “That is the correct answer.”

Within ten minutes, they were both in the corridor, with the door to their room thrown open and blasting rock music into passageway. Tony grabbed two beers from the stash he knew was hidden under Clint’s bed for exactly these kinds of situations, and handed one to Bruce. “Bottoms up, my friend.”

“I don’t drink.” Bruce said sheepishly, looking hesitantly from the bottle to Tony.

“Jesus Christ, Banner.” Tony looked at him in disbelief. “Do you like, forbid yourself from ever having fun or something?”

“No.” Bruce said defensively. “I just… I don’t drink.” Something in Bruce’s expression suggested to Tony that there was a story there that a) he didn’t want to hear and b) Bruce clearly didn’t want to get into.

“Suit yourself.” Tony shrugged, and he opened the bottle with his teeth, making it look easy after maybe a few too many years of practise, before drinking a few mouthfuls. “You sure, Brucey boy? There’s plenty to go around.”

“Positive.” He smiled tightly.

The party was in full swing; each doorway had a different type of music blasting from it at top volume, a group of girls from two floors down had successfully avoided being caught out after curfew and had come to join the fun and the alcohol was flowing freely.

Tony left Bruce after a few minutes, telling the new kid that he needed to ‘go mingle’ and make sure everyone still remembered who he was. This _was_ partly true, but Tony also wanted to step back and see if he could force Bruce to actually talk to someone and have some fun for himself. He knew he couldn’t deal with rooming with such a fun sucking person for long, and if Banner didn’t make some friends of his own, he was destined to be hanging on to Tony forever, which was not a prospect that Tony particularly relished.

“Hey Pepper.” He said, sneaking up behind the strawberry blonde girl as she talked to a group of her friends and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She lifted his hands off of her effortlessly and turned around. “Really, Stark?” She said, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Because I received a text message fifteen minutes ago along the lines of, ‘Clint’s having a party, third floor, be there or be square’, but much cruder and with more expletives. From your phone number.”

Tony attempted to maintain a straight face. “Jesus, I told Banner to leave my stuff alone.” Pepper looked at him, and he grinned. “Okay Potts, you got me.” Pepper’s threshold for his bullshit was so low it was practically in negative figures.

“Speaking of the roommate, how is he? Are you being nice?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m being perfectly civil, and that is all you can ask of me when some dick has decided to invade my privacy.” Tony said haughtily. Tony glanced over his shoulder to where Bruce was standing, alone, under their doorframe, wringing his hands again and glancing around like a lost puppy.

“God, I wish him luck. I couldn’t share a room with you for an hour. Now, goodbye Tony.” She said, turning her back on Tony and returning to her friends’ conversation.

“But-”

“Goodbye, Stark.”

And Tony’s plan for getting rid of Bruce didn’t work. After less than ten minutes of wordlessly standing still, biting his lip so hard Tony was surprised there wasn’t a hole in it and just watching the activities of those passing him while resisting the urge to join in himself, Bruce slipped back into their room, shut the door and turned off the obnoxiously loud music, unnoticed by anyone but Tony. He sighed.

It wasn’t long after that, however, that the party was predictably brought to a close anyway with the arrival of Newly Appointed Prefect Phil. “Everyone get into bed _now_!” Coulson yelled. “Girls, get back to your own floor and if there is one thing even remotely out of place in this corridor when I wake up, every single one of you will be in detention every day for a fortnight.”

The other kids grumbled but trudged back to their own rooms anyway, but Tony really didn’t care that much. The party had been weak anyway. He pushed the door to his- their, he corrected himself mentally- room open slowly in case Bruce had managed to fall asleep regardless of the chaos, but he was propped up in bed engrossed in a book. Tony rolled his eyes. “Seriously man, you have got to get a life, else you won’t last a week here.”

Bruce smirked a little, carefully marking the place in the book and setting it down flat. Tony appreciated that. Good book-keeping was a sign of a good person, and one that many of his peers seemed to neglect. That’s if his peers even knew what a book was. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. This place might be a shithole full of rich, posh assholes, but it’s sure better than the alternatives.”

The tone of Banner’s voice made Tony wonder what the alternatives were. Maybe him and Bruce weren’t as different as he first thought. “Hmmm.” Tony said in agreement. “I hear you, Brucey boy.”

“The rich, posh assholes bit was directed at you, you know.”

Tony laughed under his breath. “I got it, thanks.”

“Any time.” Bruce said casually.

Bruce went to sleep soon after, seeing as by this time, it was closing in on midnight. But Tony couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t quite believe that someone who was so awkward and incapable of interaction in large groups had the balls to call him an asshole after knowing him all of a day. There was something about Bruce that he just couldn’t put his finger on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this a looooong time ago, like, eighteen months ago, and for some reason or another I never got around to finishing it. Then my life kind of moved on and I started new projects and this got buried in a dusty old folder in the back corner of my hard drive. 
> 
> But this week, I found it, and realised how much I'd done and how close I was to finishing it, and decided that not sharing it would be a huge waste of my time and effort. So here it is. I hope someone out there enjoys it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Mr. Stark!”

Tony looked up from where he was absently doodling random patterns in each of the corners of his note paper. “General Ross?” He said, with more politeness in his voice than he could muster for most members of staff at the academy. Ross, made quite obvious by his title, was an ex-military man, and Tony had been raised to always show respect to those who serve, or have served in the Armed Forces. Not that General Ross was by any means his favourite professor, nor Chemistry his favourite subject.

“I take it that you have met our, ah, new student?” He said, looking down to where, standing next to him, just as uncomfortably as ever, was Banner.

Tony managed to contain the eye roll, but only barely. “Yeah. He’s staying in my room.” He said flatly, drawing a line at trying to hide his annoyance at this fact. Bruce shifted his weight between his feet and entertained himself with a loose thread on the strap of his backpack, instead of looking Tony in the eye.

“Well then, I’m sure you won’t object to being lab partners then. Mr Banner, please take that empty desk there.” Bruce hesitated, as Tony’s satchel was balanced on the stool. “Stark, bag. Move it.” Tony groaned, and made as big of a deal as he’d dare over moving it on to the floor.

“It’s going to get all dusty now.” He grumbled, kicking it under his chair, annoyed. Bruce looked at him in mild disbelief, and Tony caught the glance out of the corner of his eye. “What is it, Banner?” Bruce shrugged silently, and opened his bag to extract his book. “So, are you even any good at Chemistry?” He asked suddenly. “Because if you are totally crap, I will make you sit somewhere else.”

“Are you always this welcoming, or are you making a special effort just for me?” But then Bruce grinned, suddenly looking confident for the first time that Tony had witnessed. “And I prefer Physics, but I wouldn’t worry if I were you; I think we should be okay.”

“You really think you’re that good, do you?” Tony said sceptically. Bruce looked like a geek, sure, but 'that good' was a threshold that was yet to have been met to standards as high as Tony’s.

“I don’t _think_ I’m that good, I know I’m that good.”

The bell rang, signalling the official beginning of the lesson, and, as if on cue, Ross bellowed “Silence!” as loud as his military drill voice could muster, making half of the class jump around a foot in the air. “Welcome back to the Chemistry department. I prepared a short exam on last year’s course, to refresh everyone’s minds after the summer break.” Everyone groaned in unison. Ross ignored it. “Anyone scoring less than fifty percent will be in here during lunch breaks until their work is up to scratch-”

Tony, who didn’t exactly need to worry about the threat of scoring less than a ninety on a Chemistry paper, let alone a fifty, stopped listening. “Want to put your money where your mouth is, Banner?” Tony whispered in Bruce’s ear. “I bet $100 you won’t get a better mark than me.”

Bruce’s smile dropped a little. “$10.” He offered.

“$10? Seriously?” Tony tutted. “How about we say $25? And then the loser, that is to say, you, can clean the room for the rest of the semester?”

Bruce bit his lip, then nodded, breaking into a smirk. “Deal.” He held out his hand to Tony to shake.

Tony took it and shook it in agreement, squeezing firmly in a display of masculinity that even he thought was pathetic. “Hope you like mopping, Banner, because I am going to wipe the floor with you.”

The paper only took the first half of the lesson, and Ross set the class some work from a textbook to do while he graded them. “How’d it go, Brucey boy?” Tony grinned, feeling pretty confident with his own answers. “Cleaning supplies are in the closet on the left three doors down from Prefect Phil, by the way. I think there’s possibly a maid’s outfit in there somewhere, too.”

“So long as you know where they are, Stark.” Bruce said calmly, apparently quite unperturbed by the idea of cleaning their room in a maid’s outfit, as he meticulously wrote down line after line of equations into his book, while Tony scrawled down some numbers and letters and went back to irritating Bruce, which was quickly becoming one of his favourite hobbies.

“Play it cool all you want, Brucey. You know you’re screwed. You weren’t even here last year.”

Bruce met Tony’s smug look, and matched it perfectly. “And won’t that make it all the more embarrassing when you get knocked off the top spot?”

As the end of the lesson approached, Ross stood up, neatening the stack of quizzes in front of him into one pile. “Well.” He said, looking around the room as he began to hand them out. “There were… mixed results, that’s for sure.”

When he reached their table, he looked at them both, frowning. “Did you two cheat?” He said suspiciously.

Bruce frowned, affronted, and Tony laughed, and they both shook their heads, reaching for their answers at the same time. Tony grinned- 98. And then he saw the look on Bruce’s face.

“Better get the broom out, Tony.” Bruce said casually, going to tuck the paper into his bag.

Tony scoffed. “Give me that, Banner.” Bruce handed it over, and Tony couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 100. “What the hell?” He hissed angrily. “How did you- Jesus.”

Bruce shrugged. “I’m good at science.”

Tony rubbed his eyes with his hand, and sighed. “Brilliant.” He muttered under his breath. “Just bloody brilliant.”

*

Someone was furiously banging on Tony’s door, but he was determined to ignore it. He turned up his music another notch, and was pleased to find that the banging stopped. He went back to scribbling down his World History homework, due next lesson, which he may or may not be copying from a piece of paper he found on Bruce’s desk.

Then the door opened.

“Bruce, if you had a key, why were you so determined to make me get u- Oh. What the fuck?” When Tony finally looked up, he saw, not Bruce, but Clint standing in the doorway holding a weird looking device, which he quickly slipped back into his pocket. “Did you just pick the lock on my door?” Tony tutted. “I am so getting a bolt fitted, you asshole. Now, please go away.”

“Someone kidnapped Bucky.” Clint said, just before he could slam the door in his face.

“…What?” Tony yelled. He bolted past Clint, to his and Steve’s room, where he found the blond sat on his bed, tears rolling down his face. He brushed them away in embarrassment when he saw Tony standing there, and Clint running in just a few steps behind. “Hey, don’t worry Steve, we are going to find Bucky and return him his rightful place.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile a little at the exaggerated bravado of Tony’s declaration. “It’s fine, I really am not that bothered.”

“Like hell you aren’t bothered! Bucky is a valued member of my crew-”

“Your crew?” Steve said, slightly affronted at being referred to as such.

Tony ignored the interruption. “-And I will not rest until he is back home. I mean, look at how empty and sad his bowl looks.” He said wistfully, gesturing to where the fish tank stood in the corner of the room.

“Seriously, guys, it’s just a fish… Some perspective really is needed here.” Clint tutted.

Tony glared at him furiously. “Bucky is not just a fish! That would be like saying that Erik is just a rabbit, or that Happy is just an anaconda.” Everyone turned to look at him weirdly. “Happy is my anaconda. I have a pet anaconda. Who is called Happy.”

“You have a pet anaconda? Seriously? Like, a full sized anaconda?” Clint asked incredulously. “Where do you live, a zoo?”

“Loads of people have pet snakes!” Tony said defensively.

“Yes, Tony, we know, but like, corn snakes, not anacondas!” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “And I swear they’re venomous?”

Tony shook his head. “Well, you swear wrong, because they’re actually constrictors. Totally safe. Sort of. Well, as long as you don’t get too close. But, leaving Happy out of this, and going back to the more pressing issues at hand, Bucky is not just a fish!”

There was a long pause, and then, Thor burst into the room. “I have only just been informed that the whereabouts of Bucky are currently unknown! What is the plan for his relocation?”

Tony smiled smugly. “See? At least Thor is taking this seriously. Steve, stop trying to act all cool; you look like you could burst into tears at any second. And Clint is just grumpy. Ignore him. Let’s fucking find out who fishnapped him and get him back. Preferably before this evening. Because, you know, it’s fish and chips night tonight.” Steve scowled at him, and Tony winked.

“Was the door secured?” Thor asked. Clint nodded. “So it could only have been someone with the means to unlock it! Who else has a key?”

“No-one else, just us four.” Clint said, frowning. “So unless it was you or Tony, that doesn’t really help us.”

“Wait, Thor!” Something had been bugging Tony, but he couldn’t quite work out what it was until now. “How did you know Bucky was missing? We hadn’t told anyone…”

Thor shrugged. “Luke told me.”

Tony’s eyes gleamed. “But how would Loki know, unless-”

“You think Loki stole my fish?” Steve said in disbelief. “What reason does he have? I mean, he’s not exactly the kind of guy to start a war unprovoked…”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Rogers. Why would anyone steal your damn fish? It’s not like it’s a piranha or anything cool like that. Someone is making a point. But I refuse to let Bucky be the victim of such a bad attempt at communication.”

Steve glanced at his watch. “Be that as it may, we’re sort of almost late for class. So, how about we continue this conversation later? Because while I might have a free period, I know for a fact that you guys all have World History and that Hill won’t be happy if you’re not there on time.”

Tony looked at his watch too, and saw that Steve was right. “Shit.” He realised that he never finished copying his homework off of Bruce, but hey, more important issues came up. Grabbing his books from his bed, he sprinted to the school building, and sat in his seat just as the bell went.

Professor Hill preferred to collect the homework at the start of the lesson to prevent people doing it under the table during class, and today was no exception. It wasn’t until she got to Bruce on the other side of the classroom that Tony realised that he still had Bruce’s homework.

“Professor Hill, I swear, it was on my desk this morning and-” Tony watched as the smaller boy wilted under her gaze. To say he felt guilty would be an overstatement, but he knew that Bruce was the kind of kid who would take a detention as the approach of the apocalypse, and thought that he would take one for the team.

“Sorry, Professor.” He said breezily, standing up. “I must have forgotten to give it back after I, ahem, borrowed it.”

Both Hill and Bruce turned to glare at him. Bruce looked hurt; Hill looked furious. “Mr Stark, you know my policy on copying. Detention after classes have finished each day for the rest of the week, and a zero on this week’s assignment.”

Tony really didn’t care, since he hadn’t completed the homework anyway, and he had attended enough detentions for it not to faze him anymore. “Whatever. Sorry Brucey boy.” He pulled the piece of paper from his bag and handed it to the teacher. “I made a few small corrections though. ‘Definitely’ is spelled with an I, not an A, and independence, with an E. Good try though.”

The look Bruce gave him could have stilled a rampaging rhinoceros.

*

“Where have you been?” Bruce asked when he returned to his room later that evening.

Tony shrugged. “Detention. You know, for saving your ass.” He flopped on to his bed and fished around his drawer for his headphones.

Bruce glowered at him. “You are so annoying, you know that? You didn’t save my ass, you nearly got me a detention, you dick.” Tony hummed under his breath, and Bruce sighed. “Why did you tell her that you’d taken it though? I mean, you probably could have gotten away with it.”

“I definitely could have got away with it.” Tony sat up to look at his roommate, and shrugged. “But, mainly because you look like exactly the kind of boring fucker who would throw a huge fit at me about it if I didn’t, and I can’t be arsed with it.”

Bruce looked like he was going to reply indignantly to that, but decided against it at the last moment and smiled instead, his blue braces glinting in the dim light. Tony held back a smile; his general opinion was that braces were just hideous, but on Bruce, they were almost, dare he say, cute. “You’re probably right.” He admitted. “Thanks, then, I guess.” There was a silence, but not an awkward one like Tony felt with some people. “But you can’t have been at detention all this time. It’s like, half seven. Steve was here looking for you earlier, because no-one had seen you since last lesson.”

Tony huffed. “Whatever. If you really have to know, I was in my lab.”

“… Do they let students in the science labs outside of class?” Bruce said sceptically. “That doesn’t exactly sound safe.”

“Not the science lab- my lab.” Tony explained. “The top floor of the school building is one huge research and development laboratory.”

“You have your own R&D lab… At school?” Bruce asked, still clearly not convinced.

“Okay, so maybe it was originally meant to be for the seniors and I may or may not have hacked the security system and changed the password in freshman year so I would be the only person able to get in, then set an AI bot to guard it so no-one could reset it. But in essence, it’s mine, because I’m the only person who has actually been able to access it in two years.” After a second, he added, “I mean, it’s not like anyone else understood any of the equipment in there anyway. They were wasting it. Howard paid for a second lab to be built with more suitable levels of equipment on the ground floor, so no-one really cares.”

Bruce looked at him in shock. “You’re serious?”

Tony nodded. “Deadly serious.”

“But- You- Wow. You say you built an AI in freshman year? And hacked what must be some of the best security in the state?” Bruce couldn’t help but look impressed, and even completely put down the book he was reading for a few seconds in order to stare at Tony.

“You’re good at science, and I’m good with computers.” Tony shrugged, in the closest attempt to modesty that he had ever recalled making.

Bruce snorted. “Yeah, but you’re also good at science! How is that fair?”

“And geography and math and French and history and also Latin, but only every other Wednesday afternoon.” He smirked, and Bruce laughed.

Tony’s phone rang, and he snatched it up, glancing at the caller I.D. as he did. “Thor, fill me in.” He said quickly. “Oh God, yeah, I totally forgot about that! Good point, bro. No, that just means like, friend- never mind. Okay. Uh huh. Okay. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He hung up, a grin spreading across his face.

“This is probably a stupid question, but… Thor and Loki… They aren’t actually called Thor and Loki, are they?” Bruce said, one eyebrow raised.

Tony laughed, brushing a strand of hair from in front of his eye. “No. Thor’s real name is Donald.” He caught the look on Bruce’s face. “I know, right? He hates it. But Thor, Thor is kind of obsessed with mythology, especially Norse mythology. So Thor just kind of stuck. And Loki… Well, his proper name is Luke, and they’re half-brothers, which I guess isn’t adopted, but it’s close enough to still make it funny. Also, he hates it, which makes it even better.” Tony added with a grin.

“Do you just take pleasure from annoying people?” Bruce asked, rolling his eyes.

Tony exaggeratedly pretended to think about that for a second. “Er, yes.”

“Then I think it’s time for you to stop talking, else you might just get so happy, you spontaneously combust.”

*

“Wait, what?” Clint said, only just stopping himself from spitting his cornflakes across the table. “You put what in our room?”

Steve looked even more horrified than Clint. “Why on Earth did you find the need to hide video cameras in our room? That’s just- that’s invasion of privacy! I’m pretty sure that’s against our human rights!”

“Steve, stop being so damn dramatic.” Tony groaned, taking a spoon of Lucky Charms and flicking them across the table, splattering milk and mini marshmallows everywhere. “I told you, Thor and I had a bet last year, and this was the best way we could think of to resolve it!”

Clint dropped his head into his hands. “Why do I feel that asking about the contents of this bet might be a bad idea at this point?”  He groaned, looking up at the smug expression on Thor’s face.

“Because that would be correct.” Thor supplied helpfully. Neither Clint nor Steve, understandably, looked particularly reassured.

“Regardless, I lost, but I could never be bothered to remove the cameras. Probably because I knew that this conversation would have definitely happened, and it was more trouble that it was worth.” Tony said impatiently. “God, you guys are idiots. What I am trying to say is, there is a series of top government level surveillance cameras placed in various strategically chosen positions in your dorm room. They see everything. Including anyone who may or may not be named Loki who may or may not have snuck into your room during school hours and stolen Bucky.”

Bruce’s mouth twisted a little, and Tony noticed. “What is it, Banner?”

Bruce bit his lip nervously. “Oh, um, nothing. Sorry. Ignore me.” He stammered, embarrassed.

“Why do you always act like a nervous twelve year old girl when you’re in public, when you are perfectly capable of human interaction when it’s just you and me? Just spit it the fuck out, Brucey.”

“It’s just, um. I don’t think it was Luke. Loki. Luke. Um. Because I had classes with him all of yesterday afternoon and he didn’t leave the classroom once.” Bruce said, looking at the other boys awkwardly, taking a bite of his toast to break the silence that followed.

Tony looked over to where Loki was sat by himself by the door, not eating anything, but instead just drinking mug after mug after mug of black coffee. He did look particularly joyous about something, in Tony’s opinion, and that was enough to make the pale boy guilty as far as he was concerned.

“Whatever.” He said, off hand. “We can actually find out properly later.” He stood up and dumped his bowl on the trolley provided, where the remainder of the milk that he had not sprayed across the table splattered on to the floor. One of the catering assistants, as the academy liked to call them, (and dinner ladies, as the rest of the world called them) shot him an annoyed look.

“But incidentally,” Steve asked slowly, grimacing a little. “What was the bet you and Thor made?” 

Thor chuckled, his booming laugh echoing across the room, making quite a few people turn around to look at them. “Go on, Tony. Why don’t you tell them?”

Tony snorted. “I thought that maybe you two were reaping the benefits of having a shared dorm room.” Steve and Clint looked at him, meaningfully. “Or, in a less delicate terminology, fucking. Whatever.”

Bruce choked on his mouthful of orange juice in an attempt to not spew it across the table with laughter at the expressions on Clint and Steve’s outraged faces.

“What?”

“Why would you even think that?!”

Tony and Thor smirked.

“It might have been the private whispered conversations…” Thor said thoughtfully.

“Or the hand holding?” Tony added.

“The large amounts of time spent with your dorm room door locked?”

“Perhaps the skipping around the school with linked arms singing songs from West Side Story?”

Clint glowered at Tony. “We do not, ever, sing songs from West Side Story.”

“To be fair, Tony, that is true. It wasn’t West Side Story, it was The Sound of Music.” Thor corrected, trying to stop laughing long enough to construct a full sentence.

“Oh, I apologise, because that is any less gay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I figure I'm probably gonna update once a week, on Saturdays. Until I forget. Or run out of chapters and have to write more and it takes longer than I think it will. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left comments or kudos on the first chapter - it's nice to know people are enjoying it!


	3. Chapter 3

Tony and Bruce soon fell into a routine. Bruce would get up early, and Tony would wake up just as he arrived back to their room. Tony would then have his shower, and Bruce would follow him down to breakfast and sit there not contributing to the conversation until it was time for class. Tony couldn’t say he enjoyed having to share his room with a fun hating geek, but he had to admit it wasn’t as terrible as he first imagined.

 “How do you actually force yourself out of bed at six o’clock to go on a run?” Tony moaned, as he threw his alarm clock on the floor in a lazy attempt to get it to stop beeping. (It didn’t work.) Tony could barely extract himself from under his multiple sheets, blankets and duvets with the prospect of food, let alone exercise, whereas Bruce had just come back.

Bruce shrugged. “I like running.” He bent down by Tony’s bed to turn off the incessant noise, which was gradually becoming louder and louder with each beep. “I can’t believe you still haven’t broken this yet.” He commented lightly, looking at the casing, which had miraculously not suffered a single scratch, dent or crack so far, despite almost spending more time smashing into walls than it did sat on a flat surface.

Tony lifted his head up to stare groggily at Bruce, and ignored him. “But seriously, who likes running? Do people seriously do that for fun?”

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes. “Of course they don’t, Tony, because recreational sports are completely unheard of.”

Tony stared at him blankly for a second, before it twigged that he was being sarcastic. Bruce snorted. “Shut up, Banner, my brain doesn’t function properly in the morning.” He said defensively, bracing himself for the chill of the dorm to hit him like a freight train as he pulled his covers off and crawled out of bed.

“Or at lunch time.” Bruce muttered under his breath. “Or in the afternoon, or evening, or at night.”

“Well, that was rude. We can’t all be Physics geniuses like you, Banner.” Tony said, as he hunted around his still mainly unpacked belongings for some clean clothes. He meant the comment to be a joke, but it turned out sounding almost jealous, and Tony most definitely wasn’t jealous of Bruce fucking Banner just because he did better in one test, which was, Tony told himself, nothing more than a pop quiz that he wasn’t trying very hard at all on anyway. Tony Stark wasn’t jealous of anyone.

Except potentially Clint, if his stories of getting close to third base with Romanoff were actually based on anything even vaguely resembling fact. Tony did have to admit, however, that this was about as likely as Happy growing a second head and then making out with himself.

When he looked up, after having successfully completed his quest to find a school shirt that had yet to be worn and was to a sufficient standard not wrinkled and waved it around in triumph, Bruce was fiddling with the sleeve of his blazer while very pointedly not looking in Tony’s direction. “What?” He said, attempting to catch the other boy’s eye.

“Do you always sleep in just boxers?”

Bruce was blushing. This was just too cute, Tony decided. “Normally, yeah. Why? Are you one of those people who are so insecure with their own sexuality that they get freaked out when another guy takes his shirt off within a five mile radius?” Tony asked, smirking. “Because if you are, that is not only, one, hilarious, but also, two, stupid as fuck.”

Bruce attempted one of his soon to become a trademark bitchy glares, but the effect was ruined slightly by the fact that his cheeks were still bright red. “I’m not insecure about my sexuality!” Bruce protested, clearly mortified. “I just don’t want to see that first thing in the morning!”

For some reason, (probably due to the fact that he himself couldn’t help but be acutely aware of his own attractiveness) Tony didn’t quite believe that. “Whatever you say, Brucey boy.” He said, smirking, as he sauntered towards the door. “I’ll leave you to bathe in your raging heterosexuality while I go and have a shower.”

As he entered the bathroom, he saw Steve waiting for one of the showers to become free. It might have been a poor excuse for a bathroom, but the students could only be thankful that each shower had its own cubicle, and that they didn’t have to shower communally; the school wasn’t exactly known to be frivolous with spending its $30,000 per year fee on the students. “Any news on Bucky?” Tony asked the blond.

Steve shook his head. “Nothing yet. When can we check the tapes?”

“You finally stopped going crazy about that, then?” Tony laughed. Steve looked at Tony stonily, and Tony laughed even harder. “We should be able to look at them later, I think.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “And as soon as we’ve found out who has my fish, you can wipe those tapes and take the damn cameras out of our room!” He said angrily.

“Okay, whatever.” Tony shrugged. Yeah, of course I’ll remove them, he thought.

“Or I will just have to do it myself!”

“Steve, you wouldn’t even know what a camera looks like, let alone attempt to dismantle it, even if it was just a completely basic piece of shit. I highly doubt you would even be able to find my cameras.” Tony snorted. “How about, if you manage to disconnect it without breaking it, I’ll chuck you the keys to my Wednesday Porsche?” Steve flicked him off just as someone emerged from one of the showers, and Steve darted in.

Tony managed a further minute of absently tapping his fingers on the porcelain sinks, before getting impatient. “Someone hurry the fuck up or I will personally turn off the hot water for a month!”

There was about three seconds of perfect silence, before almost every tap was shut off at the exact same moment, and people stepped out of the cubicles sheepishly, skin flushed red from the heat and clutching towels around their waists. All the people behind Tony in the queue sighed in relief.

“Cheers, Tony.”

Tony didn’t know who had thanked him, but he really did not care. In fact, all he cared about was getting under the hot water before it all ran out.

*

Tony’s morning had gone unbelievably slowly. Not even having (and winning) a good argument with his Biology teacher, Dr. Richards, could make his lessons interesting. In a turn of events that wasn’t exactly surprising, Tony was counting down the minutes until the lunch bell.

“Tony! Oh my god. You are not going to believe this.” Clint said, a weird expression on his face as Tony sat down at their usual table, having managed to force himself to not walk out of a particularly dull math lesson. “Steve, tell him.”

Steve shook his head frantically, pulling a face that Tony, before meeting Steve, only associated with constipated primates, but know identified as the blond’s ‘I’m trying my best to not burst out with embarrassingly loud laughter’ face. “No!” He squeaked. “Thor, tell him!”

Tony groaned, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles in exasperation. “Will someone kindly tell me what the hell you all know that I don’t?”

Steve just about managed to control his laughter, but was still biting down on his tongue hard. Tony looked at Clint, who was, he was afraid to say, the only vaguely normal one. After Clint pulled together some degree of composure, he began. “Well, it’s about Bruce.”

“Did he get himself punched in the head for being an annoying know-it-all jerk or something?” Tony said, more interested in his sandwich than his roommate’s social status. He had tried his best to help him, but Banner had resisted all of the guidance that Tony had kindly extended to him.

“Not quite.” Clint smirked. “You know how he is like, totally socially awkward? And he’s never comfortable around anyone?” Tony nodded, deciding that mentioning that Bruce never acted like that when they were alone, but was actually impressively sarcastic and biting would not add to the conversation at all. “Yeah, well, turns out there’s a good reason.” Clint paused for effect, and Tony rolled his eyes at how dramatic they were all acting, and took another bite of his sandwich. “He’s on a scholarship.”

Tony barely stopped himself from spitting his food across the table. “Are you serious?” He said, choking a little. Everything suddenly made sense. The insecurity, the shyness, the intelligence. “How did you find that out?”

“He’s in my Psychology class. I overheard him talking about it before class this morning.” Steve said, having recovered enough to form coherent sentences.

“God. No wonder he always looks like he’s about to shit himself when anyone talks to him.” Tony snorted, on auto-pilot.

It wasn’t that Tony specifically had a problem with Bruce being a scholarship candidate. It was more an overall distaste for the scholarship programme in general. Tony’s personal opinion was that as the son of Howard Stark, he basically had the right to act like he owned the school. And to him, the concept of someone getting all the benefits that the other students paid $30,000 a year for, for nothing, seemed totally unfair. He knew that he could have got on to the scholarship programme if he had wanted to, but no, he paid, because that’s what good people did, right? That’s how private schools worked.

Tony was about to open his mouth to say something else, but Thor hissed “Shhhh!” under his breath, and a second later, Bruce himself sat down in the empty seat at the table. The table fell silent, as everyone except Bruce turned to look at Tony, waiting to see what he’d do, so they could follow his lead.

“Um, is everyone okay?” Bruce said after over a minute of silence. Tony couldn’t bring himself to look up from his sandwich, but also wasn’t hungry any more. “Did I miss something?”

“No, you didn’t miss a thing, scholarship.” Clint said eventually, the final word laced with what Tony thought was unnecessary venom. Bruce visibly paled at the accusation, and swallowed uncomfortably.

“Oh, um,” Bruce said quietly, the noises getting slightly stuck in the back of his throat. “You, um, know about that?” His bottom lip quivered a little bit as he looked around at the hostile faces surrounding him.

This was the main reason that scholarship students never lasted long at Erskine. Sure, it was a great opportunity that most people would fight tooth and nail for, but one sniff of inferiority and you were pegged as an easy target. Bruce, with his out of control curly hair, glasses too big for his face and electric blue braces, was a potential target already, protected only by the luck of being placed in a dormitory with the most popular and influential pupil in the school. Scholarship kids just offered more ammunition- the rich but dim kids were jealous of their talent, and the rich and talented kids were annoyed that they had to fund the leading education offered at Erskine Academy for the peasants who couldn’t afford it themselves.

Most scholarship pupils barely lasted one semester, and from the current look on Banner’s face, Tony guessed it would be even less than that. Normally, he would have joined in with Clint, Steve and Thor’s jeering, but this time, he didn’t know what to think. Maybe it was because he had spent time alone with Bruce, because he had actually talked to him, and sort of knew him, as well as you could after having met him barely more than three weeks ago.

“Tony?”

Thor’s deep voice alerted Tony to the fact that he was still very much sitting in a public area surrounded by other people, and he was a little startled. The first thing he noticed was that Banner had gone. “Where did he go?” Tony frowned.

Steve looked at him oddly. “He just walked off. I presume he’s going to sit somewhere else in future, thank goodness.”

An uncomfortable feeling settled in Tony’s stomach, but he was determined to disregard it.

*

“Okay, last year’s sophomore team to the left, new players to the right!” Ms Danvers yelled, as she looked at the gaggle of teenage boys shivering in the crisp fall air. Tony shuffled with Steve and a few other people to the left, and a much larger number moved to the right hand side of their P.E. teacher slash soccer coach. She turned to the old players first. “Kindly remember that just because you won the national league last year, that does not mean you will all make it back on to the team this year.” She warned.

Tony snorted. He scored the most goals in the entire league last year, as well as his fall back, of course, that Stark Industries was the proud sponsor of the team. It was rather unlikely that he wouldn’t make the squad.

And as he predicted, as soon as all the forwards were called to take penalty shots, every ball that he kicked hit the back of the net with no problem.

He got many of his usual admiring looks from various people that he had been in classes with for two years now and had yet to speak to as Ms Danvers called his name out for the new squad after several exhausting hours of try outs for everyone else, as he stood on the side lines making snarky comments whenever someone missed a shot.

“You’re not going to suffer from any health problems this year, are you, Stark?” She asked quietly once most of the rejects had trudged sadly back up to the school.

Tony shook his head confidently. “No, I don’t think so. Doctor said it was just a mild chest infection or something.”

Ms Danvers looked at him carefully, then nodded, satisfied.

In reality, Tony never went to the doctor. Tony hadn’t even told his father that he’d been getting short of breath after long training sessions, because he didn’t think it was a big deal. And, he thought, according to Google, it probably was just a mild chest infection. Or he was possibly dying, but Google would tell you that you were dying when you have the hiccups.

Tony was pleased- but not at all surprised- to see that Steve had also made it back on to the team, since he was their star defender last season. However, despite their best efforts, they had not managed to persuade Thor to join the soccer team, since he declared it a dead sport in America, and proudly played football, nor Clint, who claimed to dislike team sports, and instead declared himself captain of the school archery team, a title which would be more impressive if there was actually anyone other than him in the team, or in fact, if they actually had a competitive squad.

“So,” Steve asked as they walked back up to the dormitory building having been excused, “What are you going to do about Bruce?”

It took Tony a second to work out what Rogers was talking about. Oh, he thought, sponsorship Bruce, got it. “Am I expected to do something?” He asked with his eyebrows raised and hands stuffed into his pockets.

Steve shrugged. “I guess not. I just kind of presumed-”

Tony cut him off, as they reached the third floor corridor. “Well, you thought wrong.” He snapped. “I’ll stop around your room later with the tapes, okay?”

*

“That bitch!” Tony muttered. “That’s it, Romanoff. The game is up. War has officially been declared.”

Clint sniggered. “Tony, grow the fuck up. I shall remind you once again- he’s just a fish. At least we know who has him now.”

“And I shall remind you again, Barton,” Tony said indignantly, “That while Bucky may be just a fish to you, to other people, such as poor Steve here, Bucky is an important part of their well-being!”

Steve looked at Tony with raised eyebrows. “While I do appreciate your concern, Tony, he honestly  is just a fish. We have like, a thousand more at home.”  He shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

“But they are not Bucky!” He emphasised. “Regardless, now we know who stole him, we can initiate phase two of the rescue mission.”

“Which is?”

Tony thought for a second. “Er… The actual rescue mission? Phase three is revenge, by the way.” He grinned, his eyes lighting up like a six year olds on Christmas morning at the thought of eventually having an opportunity to get back at Romanoff for the one time that she managed to beat him in a karate face-off back in freshman year.

Thor frowned. “What was phase one?”

Tony rolled his eyes impatiently. “Phase one was espionage. Look, the phases really don’t matter. All that matters is that we go down to the first floor and find Bucky.” He said seriously. “Now, arm yourselves. This could get nasty.”

Steve grinned and reached under his bed to pull out an enormous water pistol. “Ready.” Clint smirked and did the same, and sprayed Steve with it, just to check, as he claimed, that there was still some water left in it after their last excursion. Steve retorted almost instantly, and within seconds, the two of them were standing facing each other, soaked head to toe, water pistols pointing in each other’s faces. Tony rolled his eyes.

“Tony,” Thor asked suddenly. “How are you planning to gain entrance to the room? Surely Natasha and Pepper will be in?”

Clint glanced over at them, and Steve took the opportunity while he was distracted to hit him in the face with a large blast of water. “Fuck off, Rogers! I don’t know about Potts, but Natasha has kick boxing or something tonight.”

Tony nodded. “And I can, ahem, get Pepper out of her room for a while, no problem.” He grinned, pulling out his phone and tapping a quick message in, before sliding it back into his pocket. “Operation: Rescue Bucky is ago.”

 About half way down the staircase, they (meaning Tony) bumped into Bruce (meaning literally). “Shit, sorry.” Bruce muttered looking at his feet. “Um, what are you all doing?” He asked, looking at the four of them, each clutching a comically large plastic gun.

“Turns out you were right, scholarship.” Clint sneered. “It wasn’t your buddy Loki, after all.”

Bruce nodded slightly. “I know it wasn’t.” He said, rolling his eyes. “If you lot had thought about it for one second, you would have realised that yourselves.” There was a pause, as Clint looked affronted at being spoken to in such a manner, before Bruce said calmly, ‘”I think I’m going to go to the library or something. I’ll see you later Tony.” And with that, he turned around and scurried back the way that he came from, clutching his school bag tightly, his knuckles white.

When they got to the right door, and had established that no-one was in, Clint quickly began to unpick the lock.

“It’s kind of creepy to know that you could get into any room in this school if you wanted to.” Steve said, frowning at the device. “How does that even work?”

 “Trade secrets. I could tell you, but I don’t want to.” Clint smirked as he pushed the door open. Their plan was working so far; the room was empty.

Steve pushed past him and ran over to where a small fish bowl was sat on the windowsill. “Bucky!” He squealed. “Thank God you’re okay!”

Tony counted to thirty in order to let Bucky and Steve have a bit of a moment, then cleared his throat loudly. “Can we commence Phase Three so we get the hell back upstairs? I really do not want to still be in here when Romanoff gets back.”

Steve nodded as he placed the bowl back down gently, and then picked up his water gun once again. “Fire at will!” He ordered, and four blasts of water sprayed across the room, soaking everything. Only when Tony had emptied the very last jet of water into Natasha’s underwear drawer did they dash back upstairs, with Steve clutching Bucky’s bowl tightly until the four boys and the fish were back in Clint and Steve’s room, with Bucky back in his tank where he belonged.

“Now can you remove those fucking cameras please?” Clint demanded, scowling at Tony, who merely grinned, and sauntered first over to the shelf above Steve’s bed, where he pulled a blue stuffed bear from behind his various soccer trophies. He fiddled with a seam for a second, then pulled out what looked like a very short and blunt needle.

“You put a video camera in my bear?” Steve said, outraged.

Tony shrugged. “It wasn’t a very useful one, other than that one time last year when you asked Peggy Carter out on a date and she told you maybe when you’ grown up a bit. There was some entertaining crying.”

“You are an asshole.”

Tony ignored him, and retrieved about ten more cameras from various locations in the room, including places like cracks in the wall and two in the ceiling lights, to make sure they got a good picture, just in case, while Steve got more and more angry.

“I really fucking hate you, Stark.” He growled when Tony eventually finished.

“That’s not very nice. I mean, I did just choreograph and execute a rather fantastic plot to save your goldfish from a fate worse than death- over exposure to Natasha Romanoff.” Tony smirked. “Anyway, I believe I have a certain Miss Potts waiting in my room, so I’ll see you losers tomorrow.”

And it seemed that this part of the plan had worked out well, too. He kicked the door open to find Pepper lying on his bed, watching TV. “You alright, Tony?” She said, barely looking up.

“Not really.” He said flatly. She looked up.

“Uh huh? Why’s that?”

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Pepper paused for a second, then smirked. “Well then, I suppose we’ll just have to see what we can do to rectify that, won’t we?”

*

“Stark! Stark, open this fucking door before I break it down!”

Tony groaned, and pulled himself out from under the covers to see who it was screaming at this time in at night. “Loki, what the fuck are you doing here? Trying to join in the fun?” Tony said, sneering at the pale boy currently glaring down at him.

“Not in the slightest.” He said haughtily. “It’s more that there is a certain roommate of yours, by the name of Bruce Banner, who has been sat out in the corridor for almost an hour now. Also, you are-” Luke checked his watch quickly. “About fifteen minutes over curfew, so I suggest that whichever girl you have in here tonight gets back to her room immediately before I am tempted to alert Coulson.”

Tony froze. He had forgotten about Banner. Fuck. “Loki, you fucking… Pepper, get out.” He said harshly. “And please don’t get caught on your way downstairs. I can’t be arsed to deal with Fury this week.” She scowled at him as she pulled her clothes back on, but he ignored it. “Thanks a lot, Loki.” He hissed when she had gone. “Piss off now, please?”

Loki flipped him off and stalked back down the corridor, exerting his air of superiority in every footstep. Bruce slipped into the room, a look of annoyance on his face, with his school bag still slung over his shoulder, and a stack of books in his arms, which he soon tipped onto his bed haphazardly.

“Sorry.” Tony said shortly. “Knock or something next time, yeah?”

Bruce glowered at him. “I’ll just fucking walk in next time. Don’t ever pull shit like that with me again.”

Tony stared in disbelief. “Fuck off, Banner. I’ll do whatever I want, and you can fucking put up with it, scholarship.”

Bruce’s jaw set at the word, and Tony couldn’t help but notice his fists clench tightly. For a second, Tony was sure Bruce was going to swing at him, but just as Tony was thinking about his defence, the smaller boy took a deep breath, and said quietly, “Good night, Tony.”

Tony lost sleep that night, trying to work out why he felt guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post last week because I'm a terrible person. Sorry. 
> 
> Feel free to come hang out on [tumblr](http://alpha-lahey.tumblr.com/) and you can harrass me when I forget.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahaha guess which terrible person forgot to post yesterday? Damn it, you were supposed to remind me, remember?

“Okay, you should have finished planning your investigations by now.” Ross called over the chattering of the class. “I want a full set of accurate results by the end of the lesson.”

Tony sent Bruce a look, which had seemed to have become code for ‘what a pointless load of bullshit this is’ as he pushed his stool back, sighing in frustration. “I really wish he wouldn’t call it an investigation. It is _so_ annoying.”

Bruce smirked. “Agreed. I also really don’t think something can be classed as an investigation if you already know what the result is going to be.” He grabbed a handful of test tubes and set them out carefully, while Tony snatched up a random selection of bottles plastered with warning labels from the front of the room.

“Exactly.” Tony nodded seriously. “So how about we do a proper experiment?”

Bruce bit his lip, but Tony saw his eyes, made to look far too big for his head by the seriously unattractive science goggles, light up with curiosity and excitement. “Isn’t that a bit dangerous? What if something explodes or lets out poisonous gas or something?”

“Then we will die valiantly in the name of science.”

They burst out laughing in unison. “Banner, Stark, stop messing around and get on with your investigation!” Ross yelled from across the room.

Tony rolled his eyes and smirked, and Bruce noticeably winced at the further use of the term ‘investigation’. “What did you have in mind?”

“No idea.” Tony shrugged. He tipped some green powder into a tube, and Bruce hesitated, as Tony nodded at him encouragingly, before picking up a bottle of clear liquid and adding a few drops, following Tony’s lead in not checking the label first.

Nothing happened other than the powder dissolving to make a weird green sludge. “Well, that was exciting.” Tony said expressionlessly. “What did you just add? _Bruce, that was water._ Oh my god, you really suck at this.”

“Oops.” Bruce grabbed two more bottles and poured them together, then quickly took a step back just in case. This one was a little more interesting, with gas frothing up to almost the top of the tube and letting off a stench of feet and garbage cans. Tony had a grin plastered across his face, as he began sorting through the selection of chemicals, looking for a couple in particular.  
  
“Bingo.” He said, grabbing two that Bruce could see were covered in warning labels even without being able to read the names, and gulped as Tony recklessly tipped large quantities of each into a third tube. Tony practically jumped backwards to where Bruce was standing, but all that happened was a mild fizzing noise and a couple of bubbles rising to the surface. Tony frowned. “God, why do they dilute all the stuff in this place to within an inch of its life?” He complained.  
  
Bruce shrugged. “Can’t afford to pay for the actual stuff?”  
  
“Yeah, probably because they’re letting peasants like you in for free.” He snorted.  
  
Bruce opened his mouth to reply indignantly, but he was interrupted by a loud smashing noise and a burst of flame and heat. Tiny fragments of glass flew more than ten feet in all directions, hitting Tony and Bruce square on and catching a few other members of the class who were working near them. Fortunately, the fire burned out before it had a chance to catch on to any of the other bottles nearby.  
  
“…Shit.” Tony said, trying hopelessly to hold back a smile of glee as he surveyed the wreckage. “That was fucking insane.”   
  
Bruce looked on in horror. “What the hell was that?” He asked, his mouth gaping. The flying shards of glass had caused a few shallow cuts to emerge down one side of his face and neck, and Tony imagined something similar had happened to him from Bruce’s expression.  
  
“That is a question I’d quite like answered, too.” Ross said from behind them. Tony gulped, and turned around slowly to see the General looking angrier than he had ever seen.

“… It was an accident?” Tony said, hoping (but not expecting) that General Ross would buy it.   
  
He didn’t. “Fury’s office, Stark. Now.” He spat, and Tony rolled his eyes. Just what he wanted. “And you too, Banner.” He added, glaring at Bruce. Bruce’s jaw dropped.   
  
“But-”  
  
“Ross, Banner didn’t do anything.” Tony protested in his roommate’s defence. “It was me who was mixing random things together, not him.”   
  
Ross ignored both of them, and Tony sighed, snatching up his bag and walking from the classroom haughtily, Bruce following in his wake, leaving the shattered glass and spilled chemicals for someone else to clean up.  
  
“If I get expelled, I am going to kill you slowly and painfully, Stark.” Bruce said conversationally as they made their way through the silent corridors. “I mean it. I will slice you into little pieces and hide them in your friends’ food.”  
  
Tony stared at him. “You are a really, really fucked up human being, Bruce.” Bruce shrugged silently and Tony continued to look at him incredulously as they walked towards Fury’s office. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” He joked half-heartedly after a good few minutes of awkwardness.

“Yeah, well, there’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, Stark.” Bruce said quietly. Tony frowned, but didn’t answer. He didn’t know _how_ to answer. He reached the door and hesitated, and, just as he raised a hand to knock, it swung open.

“Again, Stark? Get in, both of you.” Fury said, in exasperation. “I am fed up of seeing you in here.” Tony scowled at the floor silently, having learnt from experience that saying something now is the biggest mistake there is to make. “And you must be Mr. Banner.” Fury turned to Bruce, his one visible eye narrowing; Brue wilted under the gaze. “I really would have expected better from you.” Bruce looked at Tony without meaning to, and Fury followed his eyes. “But then again, maybe I should have expected this when you started associating with Mr. Stark.”

Tony tutted. “You put him in _my_ room. You can’t blame me from being a bad influence or detracting from his studying or whatever crap you’re trying to spin here.” He said defensively. “And it was only a few test tubes anyway. What’s the big deal? I’ll fucking replace them if you’re that bothered.”

“Stark, not everything is fixed by throwing money at it! You need to grow the hell up and take some proper responsibility for once in your life.” Tony started to say something in return, but Fury ignored him. “Banner, you have a great opportunity at this school. As you can imagine, we don’t often give out scholarships. I hope to God you aren’t going to throw this away.” Bruce blushed a little and nodded his head silently as Tony rolled his eyes. “‘Blowing shit up’ in Chemistry is not how juniors should be wasting their time. Detention after lessons finish every evening for a fortnight. And know that I will be keeping a close eye on you, Stark… Banner.”

Fury gestured for them to leave, and Tony bowed deeply, sarcasm practically dripping on to the carpet before walking out confidently. Bruce followed sheepishly, closing the door quietly behind him.

“See? It’s not even a big deal.” Tony breezed, a grin spreading across his face. “Are you still going to kill me?”

Bruce smirked. “You seem to have escaped this time, Stark. Next time, who knows, maybe you won’t be so lucky.”

“See you in detention.” Tony laughed.

“Asshole.”

*

Bruce didn’t sit with Tony and the others at lunch. No-one made a comment about it, but Tony knew that everyone had noticed. He looked around the cafeteria quickly, and saw Bruce sat at the table in the very back corner near the door, talking and laughing, _with Loki._

*

Bruce was already sat in the detention classroom when Tony sauntered in lazily after his final class had finished. “Bruce.” He acknowledged.

“Tony.” Bruce returned, looking up briefly, before returning to the heavy textbook open in front of him.

“You’re _seriously_ doing work in detention?” Tony asked in disbelief.

Bruce scowled. “Yes, I am. Because I’m not going to have a chance to do it later, am I?”

Tony looked at him in confusion. “Um, why not?”

“Because Natasha and Pepper and a few other girls are _apparently_ planning to wage war on the third floor boys in retaliation for whatever you lot did while ‘rescuing’ Bucky.” Bruce said casually, continuing to meticulously write out notes on what they should have been doing in Chemistry that afternoon.

“What the fuck?” Tony yelled angrily. “They started it, we finished it! We’re even!”

Bruce shrugged. “Have you ever actually been in a situation that sorted itself out like that? Especially one that involves teenage girls after you poured water in their underwear drawer?”

 “True.” Tony paused in thought. “How do you know they are planning to storm us this evening? I somehow doubt that Natasha Romanoff would even _look_ at you, let alone let you in on top secret intel.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “‘Top secret intel?’ This school is so damn weird. And no, Romanoff didn’t tell me. Luke did.”

“ _Loki?_ ” Tony scowled. “That dick. How the fuck did he find out? I bet he’s helping them.”

“Come off it, Tony, I’ve been at Erskine for, what, eight weeks, and even I have managed to work out that _Luke,”_  he emphasised the name pointedly, “Knows everyone who comes and goes and every single thing that happens in this place. And in case you didn’t notice this either, he also doesn’t exactly get on well with Natasha. I sincerely doubt that he is helping her get revenge on you lot, or whatever it is that you believe.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Loki is involved somehow-”

“No, he is not!” Bruce interrupted, losing his cool. “Why do you always accuse Luke of doing everything with no proof? Or even when you have proof that it couldn’t have been him?” Tony noticed that Bruce’s hands were shaking with anger.

“Jesus, Banner, calm the fuck down!” Tony said, holding his own hands up in mock surrender.

“It happened when Bucky went missing, and you’re doing it again now, and I can guess that this isn’t the first time it’s happened!” Bruce continued, steam practically pouring from his ears. “What has he ever done to you?”

Tony went quiet. What _had_ Luke ever done to him, other than occasionally got a higher grade than him in class or sent him snarky comments in the corridors? “He’s… He, um. He’s just annoying, you know?” Tony said hastily, trying to cover up his hesitation. “He’s always sneaking around, trying to see what we’re doing and never leaving us alone-”

“Oh, shut up, Stark.” Bruce said, his voice harsh and bordering on shouting. “He’s never done anything to you to make you dislike him so much. Now leave him alone, okay? And while you’re at it, leave me alone. You’re an immature, bullying asshole and I can’t be bothered to put up with your shit for one second more than absolutely necessary. You’re just getting me into trouble and I can’t afford to get distracted.”

Tony was taken aback. He’d never been spoken to so bluntly in his life, which is saying something, since his father never bothered to restrict his choice of words around his son. “I-”

“I really don’t want to hear it, Tony.”

Tony didn’t dare attempt to say another word to the other boy for the rest of the detention period, even after the designated supervising teacher actually showed up. Bruce did his homework, and Tony tapped casually on the table top until he was sent a fierce look from the other side of the classroom, after which he settled for spending the hour staring out of the window and plotting his defence against the rumoured raid that evening. He slipped his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to Steve, Clint and Thor, warning them of what he had been told.

When the clock ticked over to five o’clock, Tony was on his feet and striding towards the corridor outside purposefully before the teacher could even look up. He heard Bruce sigh as he flipped his textbook shut.

Tony didn’t wait, but instead all but ran across the courtyard to the dormitory building and up the stairs, before bursting on to the landing, expecting carnage and mayhem and rioting, but being greeted instead with as much calmness as can be expected of a corridor full of testosterone fuelled teenaged boys.

He threw the door of his room open and collapsed on to the bed, his head sinking into the stack of pillows. He managed to lie there in peace for about three minutes before there was a loud knock on the door. “Tony? Are you in there?” Steve said loudly.

Tony turned his sound system on in response, and rolled over in bed, ignoring the increasingly exasperated banging on the door. A minute or so later, the door swung open and Clint slipped the lock pick back into his school bag once again. Tony tutted. “Seriously. Getting a bolt. What is it?”

“You sent us an urgent message!” Thor declared.

“We thought that we should find out the fuck was going on.” Clint supplied more helpfully. “Something about Natasha and Pepper?”

Tony awkwardly lifted his shoulders in what he meant to be a shrug, which he found slightly more difficult since he was still lying down.  “Bruce told me that Loki told him that they were looking for revenge after we drowned their rooms. But as far as I can see, everything is totally normal, so… I was probably just Loki trying to cause trouble.”

Thor frowned. “That does not seem like Loki’s typical behaviour. He might like to cause mischief, but what does he have to gain from such a prank?”

No-one had any suggestions. Tony sat up cross-legged, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what would be way easier?” He suggested at last, and reached into his pocket, and pulled out his cell phone. “Hey, Pepper? Yeah, it’s me. Can you come up to my room please? Bring Romanoff.” Tony hung up without leaving Pepper a chance to respond, but sure enough, within a minute or so, the unlocked door swung open, showing the red head and the strawberry blonde standing with proud smirks on their faces.

“Hello boys.” Natasha said, flicking her hair subconsciously out of her eyes. “What seems to be the problem?”

Tony ground his teeth in annoyance. “Don’t act like you don’t know, Romanoff.” He stood up to join his friends, the four of them facing the two girls menacingly. They just smiled calmly. “Why did you steal Bucky?”

“The fish’s name was Bucky?” Natasha laughed. “That’s cute.” Steve’s lips were pressed together in a hard line, and it looked like he was seconds from an attempt to shut the two of them up for good. Natasha laughed again, in her own infuriating way. “It was a message.” She explained patronisingly. “We were trying to get your attention.”

“Okay, well you have our attention now, so would you kindly _explain_ the message?”

Natasha turned away from Tony, and addressed Clint instead. “Hello Barton. Would you please stop telling everyone that you had sex with me last year? Because we both know that never actually happened.” Clint blushed and started to defend himself, but Natasha cut over him. “Also, stop texting me and stop asking me out on dates, because all it’s doing is making me annoyed and making you look desperate.”

There was a pregnant pause, during which Clint went bright red, and Tony, as a good sympathetic friend, tried to hold back the laughter threatening to burst out of his mouth. He tried. He didn’t succeed, and Clint shot him a reproachful look.

“But, Natasha, I didn’t-”

“Can it, Barton.” She interrupted, one eyebrow delicately raised. “Maybe you should grow up a little, and then you might have more of a chance. _Might_.”

“It’s a very slim chance.” Pepper added helpfully, and Natasha nodded in agreement, as Pepper held up two fingers, almost touching. “About this much chance.”

Clint scowled, as Steve and Thor tried not to cry with laughter. Tony managed to regain his composure enough to address the two girls before they left. “So can we call this a truce now? You stole Bucky, we drowned your room… Evens, right?” They just looked at him, smirks playing on their lips. “Aw, come on, Potts. Romanoff. Let’s be reasonable.” They didn’t bother with a reply, but sauntered out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them. “Just fucking perfect.” He muttered to himself, annoyed that now on top of a pain in the ass roommate, idiotic friends unable to pick up dates to entertain themselves _and_ having Fury and no doubt Coulson on his back every hour of the day, he’d also have to plan a single handed counterattack to whatever mayhem the first floor was planning.

Also he supposed there might be some studying scheduled every so often. And soccer training. And the free time he needed to recreationally science. _Fucking brilliant._ He thought. He knew he had to put an end to Potts and Romanoff now.

*

When Tony woke up in the morning, he was surprised to see the body of Bruce Banner still wrapped tight under a pile of blankets, slowly moving up and down as he breathed steadily. This was the first time that the room hadn’t been empty when he’d woken up, and it felt strangely awkward, even though the other boy wasn’t even currently conscious. Tony wondered if he’d forgotten to set his alarm, or whatever it was that he did that enabled him to have woken up silently every morning for over two months.

Figuring that leaving Bruce sleeping, no matter how tired he looked, was not the kindest thing to do, Tony pulled himself reluctantly from his warm bed and looked down at the sleeping boy. He had a feeling that poking him to wake him up would be weird. And throwing water on him would just make Bruce equally pissed off as if he’d left him asleep so that he missed class. As Tony hovered over the bed, trying to make a decision that really shouldn’t have required that much thought, Bruce opened one gluey eye.

“Tony?” He said slowly, his brain still a little muddled from sleep. “Urgh, what time is it?”

“Seven.” Tony said, grinning. “Time to wake up, sleepy head.”

Bruce blinked a few times, and Tony felt the awkwardness rising. Bruce looked so vulnerable in this state, his hair a mess and sleep dust in the corners of his eyes. It was a side to Bruce which he hadn’t seen before, and Tony was intrigued. Then Bruce woke up enough to notice him staring- although Tony maintained that he was _not_ staring but more closely examining Bruce’s hair because he thought he might be going prematurely grey from his constant stress- and sent him a look odd enough to make Tony quickly glance towards the door, where general sounds of life could be heard out in the corridor.

“Hurry up, or I’ll have to pull rank again to get into the showers before the hot water runs out.” Tony warned, and that persuaded Bruce to emerge from his nest and face the real world. “So what, did your alarm not go off or something? You’ve usually gone out and come back by now.” Tony asked.

“Too cold to run now.” Bruce grunted quietly. “New York winters aren’t exactly the most pleasant conditions for outdoor activities, especially not at half five in the morning.”

“We have a gym, you know.” Tony informed him. “And a fitness studio. I’m sure if you asked Ms Danvers, she’d give you a pass.” The soccer team, as well as every other official sports team in the school (and therefore _not_ the archery team) were supposed to spend at least three hours a week doing ‘personal training’. Very few people actually bothered, Steve and Thor being two of the only ones that did with any regularity.

Bruce frowned. “I like the view and the fresh air when I run. It helps me think things through.” Bruce said, before blushing, as if he’d revealed too much.

Tony nodded, although he did not really understand. He didn’t push the issue any further however, since the lure of hot water was too tempting to resist for another minute, and he practically sprinted to the bathroom, pushed some people out of the way and locked himself in a cubicle, ignoring the many protests behind the door.

Fifteen minutes later, when everyone else had resigned themselves to the fact that no-one else would be getting in that one cubicle and had stopped banging on the door angrily, Tony switched off the water, dried himself hastily and tugged on his underwear and school trousers, and shrugging into his shirt before opening up the door.

The sight that greeted his eyes was not what he expected. What looked like the entire third floor was gathered in a circle in various states of dress, all eagerly watching some sort of showdown in the centre.

“What the fuck is going on?” He yelled over the noise. A few people moved aside so he could get into the middle of the circle, and he gasped.

Bruce was sprawled across the wet floor, his shirt soaked through and splattered with a little bit of what Tony thought looked like (and hoped was not) blood. But it was. His bottom lip was split and he already had a bruise forming on his cheek.

On the other side of the circle, to Tony’s horror, was Clint.

“I repeat, what the _fuck_ is going on?” He repeated, quieter this time. Bruce pulled himself up to his feet, wincing in pain as he stood awkwardly with all of his weight on one leg. Clint didn’t look even slightly guilty. Tony glared at him, but turned to address Bruce. “Bruce, what happened?”

At this, Clint spat at Tony angrily, “Oh, of course, take his side!”

Tony ignored him. “Bruce?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” He replied hastily, wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve. “I’m fine.” He repeated, when nobody said anything, and practically ran from the bathroom, all eyes following him.

As soon as the door had swung shut behind him, the bubble of silence broke. Everyone was discussing what had just happened, yet Tony couldn’t get a sensible answer from anyone as to the actual events from start to finish. In the end, it seemed that Clint was the only person to talk to.

He dragged Clint out of the room by the back of his shirt and shoved him backwards against the corridor wall. “What was that all about? What was Banner ever done to you?” He shouted, standing over Clint and not allowing him to move.

Tony had no idea what had made him suddenly so protective of Bruce, but he told himself that he couldn’t imagine anything that Bruce had done to provoke Clint, and therefore he was angry because the latter’s behaviour was unacceptable on a moral grounds. Deep down though, he knew that wasn’t quite everything, but he didn’t really want to linger on that thought.

Clint ground his teeth. “Banner started it.” He snapped, trying to push Tony’s arm off from across his chest, but he couldn’t move him an inch.

“Why can I somehow not believe that?” Tony snarled, pushing back harder.

“He’s a fucking psychopath!” Clint hissed, fighting for breath as Tony’s grip began to restrict his breathing. “Tony, _fuck_ \- let me _go!_ ”

“Tell. Me. What. Happened.” Tony said slowly, not releasing his hold on Clint. The other boy gasped for air.

“Stark, please!” He whimpered. Tony suddenly realised what he was doing, and stepped backwards in horror, letting Clint go hastily. He took several long, deep breaths, before looking up and glaring at Tony. “What the fuck was that?” He screamed, his voice sounding hoarse and rough.

“What did you say to Bruce?” Tony said, fighting the urge to push him back into the wall again.

“I didn’t say anything!” Clint retorted. “He just fucking flew at me and started attacking me! I bet you it’s got something to do with Loki.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything about the unwarranted accusation. “Fine.” He said finally. “Fine. But I’m talking to Bruce about this, and if you did _anything_ , Barton, you will have me to answer to.”

“Why the fuck are you sticking up for him all of a sudden?” Clint yelled after his retreating back. Tony ignored him, and kept walking. Because Tony himself had no idea.

*

After detention was over for the day, Tony ended up in Thor’s room, beating him repeatedly at the latest Call of Duty game, and didn’t get back to his and Bruce’s room until past eight o’clock. He pushed open the door to find the smaller boy packing his belongings back into his suitcase. He blinked slowly. “Um, what exactly is going on here?”

Bruce looked up at him, his face expressionless. “I’m leaving you alone.” He said, his voice edged with anger. “I know perfectly well when I’m not wanted.” A trace of something that Tony knew all too well flickered over Bruce’s face for just a second.

“Where _exactly_ do you expect to go?” He said, annoyed that Bruce was taking his anger at Clint out on him, when he was the one who defended him. “If you could have been put in any other room, don’t you think they would have done?”

Bruce thought about that for a second, and threw his bag back down on his bed furiously. “Then I guess I will just keep out of your way and attempt to minimise interaction? Oh, and naturally, not touch your stuff. We covered that one already.”

Bruce collapsed on to his bed as just lay there, staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours to Tony, who decided that the best thing to do in this situation was obviously to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room with no idea what to say. Eventually, he figured Bruce probably wanted some space to get annoyed and possibly throw stuff, so he retreated to his unofficial half of the room and pulled out an English essay to make it look like he was doing work, before grabbing his laptop from under the bed and going on Facebook instead.

After maybe ten minutes, he heard Bruce get up and unzip his suitcase again. Tony jumped up too. “Want a hand? Unpacking is a bitch.”

Bruce looked at him like he had mutated into a four headed gorilla. “Um, I’ve got it. …Thanks, though.” He added to the end uncertainly. Tony grabbed a handful of neatly pressed school shirts from his bag anyway and began to hook them over hangers and put them in his wardrobe. Banner didn’t protest.

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” Tony said tightly, after getting in to a steady rhythm of hanging and folding and placing. “You don’t have to move out of here just because Clint is an asshole.”

Bruce snorted. “You’re calling Clint an asshole? Ever heard the expression ‘the pot calling the kettle black’?” Tony threw the pair of socks he was holding at Bruce, and they hit him on the side of the head. Bruce looked from the socks to Tony, and rolled his eyes a little before picking them up and tucking them back in their respective drawer.

“You didn’t even deny it.” He commented after a moment or two of silence.

Tony looked at the floor. “Well,” He mumbled. “There’s no point denying what’s true, is there?”

Bruce looked up at him, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth down. “If you think you’re an asshole-”

“What I think is irrelevant.” Tony interrupted, speaking firmly, almost proudly. “The fact is, the majority of people think I am an asshole. Therefore, that is what I have become known as. And that is how I’d like it to stay. People know what they need to know and think what they want to think, and that’s fine.”

“But-”

“‘People’ includes you, Banner.” Tony pointed out. “Everyone has a history, and I merely prefer to not dwell on mine.” He said.

Another bout of silence. On the rare occasions that Tony was actually conversing with a person, Tony normally detested idle chit chat. Small talk was just a thing that he did not do.

“What happened? Earlier, I mean?” He asked quietly.

Bruce looked up, startled. “I thought Clint told you everything.” He said coldly.

“Like you said, Clint’s an asshole. I wholly doubt what he told me was the full story.”

“I guess that depends what he told you.”

“His version of events was an unprovoked and unnecessary attack from you on him. And while obviously, some fighting was going on, I struggle to believe that you started it.”

Bruce laughed hollowly, folding a pair of pants neatly and placing them in the closet. “Technically, I did start the fight. I hit him. I didn’t do any harm, but he slipped, because the floor was wet, and some people laughed. And then he swung back. And, fuck-” He laughed again, humorlessly. “Have you seen that guy’s biceps? I swear he’s on steroids.”

Tony snorted at that comment. “Probably. But why did you hit him?” He was aware that he sounded like a really bad therapist, and quickly dispelled the thought.

“It was stupid. I shouldn’t have done it, but… He called me ‘scholarship’, and I snapped.” Bruce’s face was hidden in his hands. Tony didn’t know what to do. “I normally have better control over my temper, but this time…” He trailed off. “I guess this means it’s probably time to start looking for another school. Again.”

Tony did a double take. “Why?”

“Is there not some sort of rule on violence at this place?” Bruce asked, raising his head and looking at Tony sceptically.

“Well, yeah, but no-one’s going to say anything to any of the staff about it. Not even Coulson, if he knows what’s good for him.” Tony assured him.

Bruce didn’t reply. “How many other schools have you been to?” Tony said eventually, to break the tension that was slowly starting to build up once more.

“Quite a few.” Bruce shrugged. “This is my third in the last two years.”

Tony looked at him incredulously. “Three in two years? _Seriously_? Why?”

Bruce didn’t look at him. “I got bullied out of public school. Apparently, wanting to learn was a crime there. After three pairs of new glasses, two black eyes on separate occasions and a dislocated shoulder from where someone pushed me down three flights of stairs, my father eventually allowed me to move.”

“Shit.” Tony breathed.

“That basically sums it up.” Bruce agreed. They had just finished re-unpacking Bruce’s bag, and Bruce slumped down on his bed, leaning against the wall tiredly. Tony sat cross-legged on the opposite end to him. “So anyway, after spending half a year there, I moved over to this private school just outside Los Angeles on a partial scholarship. Not that it was as… exclusive as Erskine is anyway, but it still set my old man back a few bucks.”

“Los Angeles?” Tony asked, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “But-“

“My father lives in California. Erskine was conveniently almost as far away as I could get without leaving the United States, but that was just a happy coincidence.”

Bruce stopped talking for a minute, just looking up at the ceiling, lost in the past. When Tony thought it looked like he wasn’t going to continue, he prompted him on. “So, did the same thing happen there?” He said, his voice unusually quiet.

Bruce smiled bitterly. “No.” He said. “No, everyone at Carmen High was inexplicably lovely. They were all that kind of ‘stay to the right in the corridors, neatly write down every homework assignment, stand when an adult enters the room’ polite fuckers who made me want to blow my brains out on a daily basis.”

Tony knew the type. He had faced all too many of them in his years of schmoozing with rich business men’s children at his father’s corporate events. They all had impeccable manners and they all needed a kick so far up their backsides that they could taste boot polish in their mouths for a month. “So why did you leave?”

“Got expelled.” Bruce shrugged.

Tony raised his eyebrows. “ _You_ got expelled?” He said, disbelievingly. “You don’t exactly strike me as the type, Banner. Or I guess, you never used to. I’m not so sure any more.”

Bruce laughed, but it was dark laughter, unlike anything Tony had ever heard before. “Yeah, well. Like I said the other day, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Stark. And a lot you probably don’t want to know.”

Tony looked Bruce in the eye, and said simply, “Try me.”

Bruce sighed, and looked back up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Tony. I really don’t want to go into that right now.”

Tony desperately wanted to know, but he wasn’t going to push Bruce any further. He already knew he was skating on very thin ice. “Fair enough.” He nodded. “I get it.”

“So yeah, got expelled from Carmen, spent a few months lounging around my house with my old man until I got so bored, I thought I was going to die, but then I found out my application here had been accepted, full ride, and I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t stand to be under the same roof as him for one more minute.”

Tony let a small, bitter smile cross his lips. “I know the feeling. Not only did I not want to spend any time with my dad, he didn’t want to see me either, so he basically pays the school to turn a blind eye to my crap, else I’d have got kicked out years ago.”

Bruce looked up at Tony through his eyelashes, and Tony could see tears caught up in them. It was about then that Tony realised he’d never told anyone that. People guessed, obviously, but he’d never outright told anyone about his relationship with his father. It should have made Tony feel nervous, but it didn’t. He trusted Bruce, and _he still didn’t fucking know why._

Bruce looked so young when he cried. So innocent, and naïve and _young_ , and Tony hated that he had been forced to face the amount of shit that he had. He did the first rash thing that popped into his head, and leant over the bed, and wrapped Bruce in his arms. He expected Bruce to protest, but he just rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and melted into the embrace, shaking with silent sobs.

Tony’s heart was breaking.

“Why are you being so nice?” Bruce hiccupped, when he finally pulled away slightly, though still staying close enough to Tony that their legs were touching.

Tony shrugged. _He still didn’t know._ There was just something about Bruce Banner. “You don’t deserve the amount of shit you have gotten, not here and not anywhere else.” He murmured. He looked up at Bruce, and saw his wide eyes behind his glasses, eyelashes clumped with tears, with a painted backdrop of purple and blue bruising, and he thought, _‘Fuck it.’_

He closed the small gap between them slowly, taking Bruce’s hands in his gently. He deliberately gave Bruce plenty of time to push him away, to stop him, to say no. But he didn’t. He looked terrified, that’s for sure, but he shuffled almost imperceptibly closer, and Tony’s heart leapt.

And then there was a bang on the door, and they jumped apart.

“Tony, get your cute little backside out here before I go and get Clint to open the door for me.” It was Pepper.

“Bruce?” He whispered at the boy, who looked suddenly shell-shocked and was pinned to where he was sat, totally immobile. “Bruce, can we talk about this please? Later?”

Bruce didn’t respond. He didn’t move. He just stared at Tony, fear in his eyes, as Pepper banged on the door once again.

“I’m coming! Calm the fuck down!” Tony screamed, not taking his eyes from Bruce. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.” He whispered, urgency creeping into his voice. And he slipped out of the room into the corridor.

As the door was closing, he heard a desperate, heart wrenching sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only excuse is that I went socialising yesterday and it was fun and I forgot to post. But here we are! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [right here](http://alpha-lahey.tumblr.com/). Love you all! Thanks so much for reading and stuff, you guys rock! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom, totally remembered. #proud

By the time Pepper had finished dropping bomb shell sized hints on Tony regarding their dating situation and Tony was able to retreat to his dorm room, Bruce had flicked off the lights, pulled his duvet over his head and turned so he was facing the wall. Tony sighed.

“Bruce?” He said quietly. “Bruce, I know you’re not sleeping. We should talk about this.”

Bruce ignored him, and continued feigning to sleep.

“Bruce, I just… You are just so…” Tony hunted hopelessly for the right words. “Bruce, I’m not having this conversation with the back of your head. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

Tony quickly changed out of his uniform and clambered into bed, angry and upset and _hurt._ Sure, Bruce might be confused and scared, but fuck, so was Tony. He couldn’t get to sleep that night. He just lay awake, staring at his ceiling in the stifling darkness of the room, listening to his own steady breathing, and the gentle ticking of Bruce’s old clock.

Dawn was just beginning to break when Tony’s phone buzzed, signalling seven in the morning and time to get up. He flicked on the light on his bedside cabinet to see Bruce lying staring at the ceiling just like he was, his eyes open and showing no sign of surprise at having to get up. He hadn’t slept either.

Bruce sat up. “Morning.” He muttered quietly.

Tony nodded, although there really wasn’t much of a reason to do so. “Morning.” He repeated. “Sleep well?” He tried to keep the snark from his voice and sound like he wasn’t aware of Bruce’s sleeplessness the night before, but it didn’t come out quite as he’d planned. Bruce glared at him, and he shrugged. “Me neither. Can we-”

Bruce jumped out of bed in an instant. “I need to shower; I’m trying to avoid further confrontations with Barton.” And he raced from the room.

“Bruce, just wait! I-” It was no use. Sighing, Tony trudged to the bathroom himself, but Bruce was already safely locked in a cubicle, and short of shouting through the door for half the school to hear, Tony knew he had no choice but to wait until he could get Bruce alone again.

Tony saw him plenty of times during the day, but every time, he was with Loki, who just shot him a look of disdain every time they passed. Bruce looked sheepish and apologetic, to his defence, and at least once, Tony overheard the beginnings of a protest by Bruce, that Tony ‘wasn’t all that bad once you got to know him’. Tony felt irrationally guilty upon hearing this, because Bruce was still defending him, even if he wouldn’t actually speak to Tony.

Thor noticed the change in Tony’s behaviour almost instantly; the frequent glances to the corner in the back of the room, the unnatural quietness, the short, snappy temper at Steve and, in particular, Clint.

“Tony, something is wrong.” He declared boldly, as they left Steve and Clint fighting over who was going to put their lunch remainders in the trash and headed off to their double period math class.

Tony looked up at him in surprise, and shrugged. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, that’s all.” He said, brushing off Thor’s concern as casually as he could feign.

But the taller boy shook his head. “No. Something is wrong between you and Bruce Banner.”

Tony stared straight ahead and didn’t answer immediately. He could see Thor frowning in concern out of the corner of his eye, and he took a deep breath to fortify himself before turning to his friend. “It’s not a big deal, we just… There was a thing, and then, there wasn’t, and now I really need to speak to him, and he keeps ignoring me.”

“I could kidnap him for you?” Thor offered, his voice, to Tony’s worry, only slightly joking.

“Um, I don’t think that will be necessary. Especially not after the whole Bucky fiasco.” Tony laughed hollowly. It was times like this that reminded Tony why he was friends with Thor. Sure, most of the time, he thought out of his biceps and had the mental prowess of a box of bricks, and his mannerisms oozed the evidence of his heritage of European aristocracy, which could get incredibly irritating. But unlike Clint certainly, and to an extent, Steve, Thor noticed when something was wrong.

Thor laughed deeply in return, the sound booming through the corridors. “That is very true, Tony. Well, if there is anything that I can do to assist you, please, let me know.”

Tony nodded. “Thanks, Thor.” He slipped through the door that Thor had held open for him, and hurried over to his seat as Ms. Van Dyne glanced at the clock, raising an eyebrow at how finely they were cutting it. The bell rang just as Tony grabbed his book from his bag and threw it on the desk in front of him. Tony grinned at his teacher, who rolled her eyes in return.

Every minute felt like an hour as Tony stared absently at the clock. Several times, Van Dyne would cough pointedly and his head would snap back to the front of the classroom, only to zone back out less than a minute later, and resume his attempt to speed up time. As soon as the lesson ended, Tony jumped from his seat and raced out of the door before the rest of the class had realised the bell had rung, not bothering to wait for Thor.

He hoped to catch Bruce alone before the supervising member of staff arrived in the detention room, and he was in luck. “Banner!” He gasped, trying to catch his breath as he flew into the room. “Bruce, we need to talk!”

Bruce blushed and ducked his head, to look down at his desk. Tony scowled. “Can it wait?” Bruce asked. “I mean, we don’t-”

“You’re here. I’m here. Neither of us can leave for another hour. No, let’s do it now.” Tony said firmly, pulling the chair out from under the desk adjacent to Bruce’s and sitting down, leaning backwards casually, and waiting for Bruce to say something.

He looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. “I’m not… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Tony sighed. “Well, let’s just presume, since you’ve been avoiding me, that we both know why we need to have this little chat.” He said, his voice just a little angry and more than a little patronising. Bruce nodded. There was a pause, and Tony decided that the best way to break the ice was obviously by throwing a sledgehammer at it. “If Pepper hadn’t have interrupted us, I would have kissed you last night.” He said shamelessly.

Bruce buried his face in his hands. “I know.” He murmured, the words almost unintelligible through his palms. “Look, Tony, I-” He started, looking up anxiously. “I don’t have any problems if you are, you know, um… But I’m… I don’t… I’m not gay.” He stammered, getting the words out eventually. “I don’t mind if you are, or if you’re bisexual, or not sure or just experimenting, or… Or whatever. But I’m not.”

“Is that it?” Tony said after a minute’s silence. “You’re not gay. You are not attracted to men in the slightest. That’s that. Okay then. Fair enough.” He said randomly. His heart was racing and beating wildly, and he had no idea why.

“Look, I’m not… I won’t say anything. If you don’t want me to.” Bruce’s voice lowered on autopilot, despite them being the only two in the room. “I get that it can be hard, and you might not want the entire school to know, so I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

Tony snorted, then realised that Bruce was serious the exact second the teacher walked in. Tony groaned under his breath, then span in his seat so he was facing forward, as per detention regulations. He pulled a crumpled up piece of paper from his blazer pocket and quickly scribbled a message on it, before flicking it across the desk to Bruce.

He watched Bruce’s face carefully as he read it. The smaller boy frowned, his eyebrows knitting together, before he grinned, and pulled a pen out to neatly write underneath Tony’s scrawl, before tossing it back.

_I don’t like to put a label on it. Just really wanted to kiss you._

**Sorry Stark, there’s a waiting list you’ll have to join. Should get around to you in twenty years or so.**

Even in note form, he was sarcastic as fuck. Tony rolled his eyes.

_Or we could just kiss now. That works too._

He flicked the note back, and Bruce read it, before carefully folding it and tucking it into his pocket. He turned to Tony and mouthed, “Nice try!”

Tony ground his teeth. He wasn’t used to people playing hard to get, especially dorky assholes like Banner with his fucking braces and his mannerisms which just screamed ‘virgin’. He’d never met anyone like Bruce before, and he’d definitely never _wanted_ someone like Bruce before.

 _Well, fuck_. Tony thought. _Like my life wasn’t complicated enough._

*

Tony decided that tonight was going to be one of his lab nights, and therefore awkwardly waved Bruce goodbye at the foot of the stairs leading to the science department. As he trudged upstairs, he couldn’t help but wonder why the fuck he was feeling how he did for his roommate. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough floors even to the top of the tallest building on campus for him to have worked it out by the time he reached the lab, and so instead of doing any kind of recreational science, he just propped himself on a stool in the corner and attempted to untangle the shreds of his life that he was still certain of.

Because it was easy to put on a bold, flirtatious exterior, and make Bruce think that he didn’t care about what others thought, and what others said.  But when it came down to the truth of the matter, Tony Stark was terrified. It wasn’t like with Pepper or any of the other girls at the school; a quick fuck because he had nothing better to do. It wasn’t even because he was ‘experimenting’ or whatever other labels adults liked to stick on it. He _liked_ Bruce. A lot. He hadn’t realised how hard he had been trying to deny it until that one awkward almost-kiss that opened up the floodgates. And now he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t contain himself. He _wanted_ Bruce like he’d never wanted anyone before.

And that, of course, led to the main problem. It seemed, for the first time in his life, the other person didn’t want him back. Banner didn’t care that he was rich, or talented, or powerful, or anything else that could be tagged alongside his name. Banner wouldn’t give him as much as the time of day.

It infuriated Tony, (and he deliberately overlooked how proud that made him look) but most of all, it just made him all the more determined to succeed in his attempts. People thought Bruce was boring and stuffy, a teacher’s pet and a nerd, but Tony had seen a totally different side to the boy- his sarcastic tone, his dark sense of humour and the occasional odd, slightly sinister comments regarding his past all highlighted to Tony that all was not quite as the rest of the world saw. And then, of course, the incident in the bathroom with Clint. It may have been widely reported that Bruce just lashed out and he got his ass kicked by Barton, but in reality, Tony knew that Clint had a pretty nasty gash on the back of his head from where Bruce had thrown him backwards with some force and he hit his head on the edge of a sink.

But the most shocking thing wasn’t that Tony was attracted to Bruce despite the fact that didn’t have enough money to practically purchase an entire private academy, or that he didn’t have the power and influence in his family to sway the results of the next Presidential Election. No. The most shocking thing was simply that _Bruce Banner was not a girl._

“Fuck, Stark.” He muttered to himself under his breath. “ _Fuck_.” That basically said it all.

It wasn’t until gone seven that Tony eventually evacuated from the laboratory, his stomach making the decision for him as he hurried to the cafeteria to grab some food before they closed down for the night. He let the conversation flow over his head, too concerned with shovelling spaghetti down his neck and too absorbed in his own thoughts to listen to Clint’s tales of fictional sexual conquests, or whatever the topic of conversation for the evening was. He did notice, however, the occasional concerned look directed his way from Thor, but Tony determinedly avoiding his gaze.

Thor went back to Steve and Clint’s room after dinner, but Tony declined the invitation. Bruce was nowhere to be seen, so presumably he was still with Loki, doing whatever it was Bruce and Loki got up to when they were together. A little bubble of jealousy raged within him for no conceivable reason, and he attempted to shake it off, but it wasn’t easy.

Deciding that blasting out some ridiculously loud ACDC and engaging in some scientific retail therapy was probably the most productive way to spend the rest of his evening (and hopefully taking his mind off Banner), he pulled his laptop out from under his bed and hit a few buttons, waiting for it to load up.

It didn’t.

He frowned, jabbing the power button. Eventually, the screen lit up, only to flash up a hardware error, then shut down again. Tony couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His laptop was top of the range and practically brand new; there was no reason for it to have a hardware malfunction. He tried switching it on again, and gasped.

The message on the blank, black screen read, ‘ _To Tony, with love’_ , before turning into a mess of randomly coloured pixels. The ventilation fans inside the computer starting whirring into overdrive as the unmistakable stench of smoke and burning dust filled the room.

“Shit!” Tony yelled, dropping the machine on the floor in panic, and switching it off as fast as he could. “What the _fuck_?”

After the insides had cooled enough to touch, he grabbed a screwdriver from the multi-tool he kept in his bag at all times and lifted the bottom plate of the laptop off. The entire interior was damaged from the smoke, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary other than that. Nothing was burnt, nothing was melted- there was no sign of where the smoke came from. Tony cursed loud enough for the entire floor to hear.

He’d been hacked. There was no other explanation for it. No computers crash that spectacularly nowadays. It just doesn’t happen. The only question really is _how._ His laptop had government level security programming, all the way down to the rhythm of the key strokes and most commonly used words triggering a lock down, thanks to his father’s influence and paranoia that people will use his family to get information on him. There’s no chance in hell that anyone at school could have done it. It had to have been an outsider.

He rummaged through the smoke ruined guts of the machine and armed once again with his screwdriver, managed to prise out a relatively undamaged hard drive. Tony frowned. Why bother hacking into a computer and burning up its intestines, but leaving the only bit that actually mattered- the bit that stores the data. It doesn’t make sense.

He knew he had no choice but to phone his father, but he wanted to put it off for as long as possible. Tony knew he would be absolutely livid, and probably launch a large scale police inquiry into the security of Erskine Academy. Tony knew better than to flatter himself though; it wouldn’t be out of concern for his safety, but for the reputation of ‘one of the finest high schools in the country’, that just happened to be publically linked to Stark Industries. For a company working in ‘defence’, it really wouldn’t be a strong advertising point.

The door creaked open, and he looked up. Bruce froze in the doorway. “Um, are you okay?” He asked uncertainly, his eyes flickering between Tony and the remains of his laptop, which lay in pieces across the floor. He wrinkled up his nose as he picked up the acrid smell of burning plastic. “What happened?”

Tony gritted his teeth. “I _don’t_ know. Someone hacked my laptop or something. Insides all melted out, the display is completely fucked… I mean, it’s a total write off. The only part of the whole fucking thing that survived is the hard drive, _which makes no sense_ , since that’s the only bit that really matters. But then again, there’s no guarantee that when I get the damn thing working again, it’s actually still going to have anything _left_ on it.” Tony spat, angrily. Bruce seemed to wilt under Tony’s aggression, and he felt slightly guilty for taking it out on him, just because he was there. “Bruce, can I borrow your laptop, please? I want to see if I can get it connected as an external drive.”

Bruce blushed. “Um. I don’t actually… Um. I don’t have one.”

Tony looked at him, surprised. “Seriously?” He raised an eyebrow.

Bruce shrugged. “Peasant, remember?”

Tony had to bite back a laugh, despite himself. “Who the fuck called you a peasant?”

 “You did? More than once, if I recall correctly.”

Tony looked a bit sheepish. “Oh, um, sorry. I didn’t-”

Bruce shrugged it off. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve been called, I can assure you.”

That just made Tony feel even worse. It was just another reminder of all the crap Bruce had had to face from assholes like himself throughout his life. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

Bruce blinked in surprise at the sincerity. “That’s… fine. Seriously Tony, it’s not a big deal.”

Awkwardness fell around them, and it just reminded Tony why he rarely gave sincere apologies. He stood up, letting out a sigh. “Okay then, well, I’m going to ask Thor if I can borrow his laptop. The security footage from this room streams straight into my hard drive, so if I can get that running, then I should be able to find out who it was.”

Tony ran and banged his fist on Steve’s door. “Thor!” He yelled. “I need to borrow your laptop!” There was a reason that he asked for Thor’s, not either Steve or Clint’s. Primarily, Thor was least likely to ask questions. Secondly, Thor had no idea how to use it anyway, so not having it didn’t affect him in the least.

Thor emerged, and Tony followed him back to his room. Loki was lying on his bed, wearing a pair of comically large (and probably comically expensive) headphones. He pulled them off when his brother and Tony walked in, and sat up in surprise.

“Here you go, Tony!” Thor said, thrusting the computer at his friend. “I hope you find it useful!”

Loki looked at him curiously. “What are you doing?” He asked. There was something in his voice that Tony couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he knew he didn’t like it.

He scowled. “None of your fucking business, Loki.”  He didn’t answer, but just smirked, and replaced his headphones over his ears.

Tony just really fucking hated Loki.

“Thanks, Thor. I won’t be long.”

He kicked the door to his and Bruce’s room open once more, and put the laptop on the floor. “Fucking hell, Bruce, how do you survive spending more than ten seconds with Loki? He’s a total pain in the ass.”

Bruce didn’t look up from his desk, where he was doing his homework, as usual. “One could ask the same about how I put up with you, Stark. In fact, Luke is far easier to get on with than you are.”

The almost-kiss hung unmentioned in the air between them, and Tony flushed red a little. “Yes, well.” He blustered. “He drives me crazy.”

“The feeling is mutual, I can assure you.”

Tony bit his lip, and set about salvaging as many parts from the computer as possible, before pulling a large box out from the inside of his wardrobe and flicking it open. Bruce looked over his shoulder, and rolled his eyes. “Tony, why do you have an entire R&D lab in a box in your wardrobe?”

“You never know when you might need to solder something, Bruce.” He said seriously. He grabbed some more wires and a selection of screwdrivers, and set to work. He could feel Bruce’s eyes on him the whole time, but refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. It didn’t take him long to rewire it.

“Don’t you need a hard drive enclosure to do that?” Bruce asked eventually, as Tony booted up Thor’s laptop and pulled in the hard drive.

“I didn’t know you knew about computers.” Tony said dryly. “In fact, how do you know that? You don’t even have a laptop.”

Bruce shrugged. “I used to work this guy, back home in California, who taught me about computers when I was a kid. I made a few bucks fixing people’s computers when they broke, or needed updating or whatever.”

Tony nodded absently. “Of course. Is there anything you _can’t_ do?” He tutted. “And in answer to your question, technically, yes, but you can get around that with some creative wiring and a touch of luck.”

After a few more seconds, Tony had his drive up on the screen of Thor’s computer successfully. He flicked through the folders until he found the one containing the security footage. “Bruce, please can you not let Loki into my room please.” He scowled as he fast forwarded through the last few days of video. “I do not trust that kid.”

Bruce swallowed uneasily, and Tony was about to ask why, when it all became blindingly clear. “Son of a bitch.” Tony hissed, as he watched the grainy, black and white version of Loki being let into the room by none other than Bruce himself earlier that evening. It was jumpy and low res, since Tony could only get his hands on old equipment from his father’s business, but it was clear enough. He sat in shocked silence as Bruce opened up his laptop and hacked through three levels of government issue security, typed in a few lines of computer code, and then shut it down again, before handing it to Loki, who unscrewed the bottom and slipped in two tiny disks of metal that Tony couldn’t identify.

Bruce was blushing steady darker, but the resolute look on his face remained. Tony sprang to his feet, grabbed Bruce by his collar and all but threw him against the wall. “I fucking _trusted_ you, Banner. And this is what you do to repay me?” Bruce looked terrified, and quite rightly so. Tony punched him in the gut, and he doubled over in pain, tears stinging the edges of his eyes.

“Tony!” He gasped. “Tony, stop, please!” He begged, still determined to not let the teardrops fall. “I’m- I’m sorry!”

Tony stared at him in disbelief. “It’s fucking easy to be sorry now. I thought I fucking knew you, Bruce. After everything you’ve done, after everything you _changed…_ I can’t believe you’d do this.” His body was almost vibrating with anger, and he was having a hard time stopping himself from crying too. After everything, the betrayal just felt like too much.

He looked at Bruce, the pain in his face, the apology in his eyes, and he felt sick to his stomach. He crumpled to the floor, and sobbed, burying his face in his hands. He felt a hand hesitantly rest on his shoulder, and he sobbed harder. And then a pair of surprisingly strong arms reached around him, and he eventually looked up.

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” Bruce murmured. “I don’t know why I-”

“No. It was Loki.” Tony whispered. “It wasn’t you. I dont... I won’t believe it was your idea. It was Loki. He’s been using you. For weeks now. God, I’m such an idiot. Fuck, I’m sorry I hit you. It wasn’t your fault. I just, I saw red and-”

“What do you mean Loki has been using me?” Bruce interrupted.

Tony bit his lip. “He’s been taking advantage of you. He needed you, to get to me. That’s... This is what he’s wanted all this time.”

“No.” Bruce said firmly. “Tony, you don’t know him. That’s not true. He’s my… We’re friends. Luke wouldn’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Banner.” The two boys looked up, and Loki was standing smugly in the doorway, a smirk plastered across his face. “Don’t you two make a pretty picture?” He snorted.

Tony hastily wiped the tears from his face and shrugged Banner’s arms from his shoulders. “I’m of a mind to kill you right now.” He growled, glaring at the pale boy menacingly.

“You wouldn’t even get close.” Loki sneered. “I hope you enjoyed my little gift, Stark. An exothermic chemical reaction triggered by an electronic signal from a few lines of computer code. Clever, isn’t it?”

Tony ground his teeth. “Loki, if you have a problem with me, then that is fucking fine. Don’t bring Bruce into this.”

Loki laughed, and the sound made Tony feel very uneasy. “Oh, whatever, Stark. I didn’t realise Banner meant so much to you.” The look in his eyes was all-knowing and incredibly uncomfortable.

“Fuck. Off.” Tony hissed. “Leave me alone, and leave Bruce alone.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He said silkily. “I don’t think the game is up quite yet.”

“Yes, it is.” Bruce said flatly. Both Loki and Tony looked to him in surprise. “You are done here, _Loki._ ” Bruce’s use of Tony’s name for him made Luke’s eyes flash dangerously. “I don’t take well to people using me for any reason, and especially not revenge. All those stories you fed me, they were all lies, weren’t they? Everything you ever told me was carefully fabricated bullshit from the crazy little world in your head. But now it’s time for you to shut up and listen. If you _ever_ try to interfere with Tony or me again, I will smash your head against a brick wall, do you understand me?”

Loki gave them one last haughty look, and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him. Bruce sunk on to his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The tears had eventually broken through, and Tony couldn’t do anything but return the gesture Bruce had extended to him, and hold him tightly.

“Are you okay?” He whispered gently. Bruce nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.” Tony said again. He honestly didn’t think he’d ever said sorry as many times in his life as he had today.

“You don’t need to keep apologising, Tony. You have nothing to apologise for.”

Tony shook his head. “There are a lot of things I am sorry about. I’m sorry that I acted like such a jerk to you. I’m sorry that Loki used you. I’m sorry that I punched you. I’m sorry that _Clint_ punched you. Hell, I’m sorry that those assholes at your first school punched you. I’m sorry that I got you into trouble with Ross.  I’m sorry that I tried to kiss you when you obviously weren’t interested.”

Bruce smiled gently. “Tony, it’s fine. Seriously. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” Tony protested. “If everything was fine, you wouldn’t be sat here crying and I wouldn’t have been crying earlier and everything would just be easy. I wouldn’t have to worry about my reputation or my father’s reputation; I could do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted without worrying about what backlash it would have and-” He cut himself off, and met Bruce’s gaze, looking into his eyes deeply. “God, I could be me, not who father wants me to be, or who society wants me to be. _I could be me.”_

Bruce hesitated, before asking quietly, “And who are you, Tony? Underneath all your crap, who are you?” He looked nervous, but his eyes were set, like he was sure of himself about something, at least.

Tony hoped he was reading the signs right. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second longer than one normally would and made a silent wish that he was reading the signs right. He didn’t bother with the whole ‘lean in slow and give them time to pull away’ bullshit, not after last time’s interruption. He swooped in quickly, and pressed his lips against Bruce’s.

It was like fireworks. It was like an explosion. It was like two pieces of a jigsaw fitting together. It was like every other cliché ever used to describe when someone had finally found the person who was perfect for them. Tony felt almost giddy, _and Bruce still hadn’t pulled away_. He was reciprocating, almost, and certainly not putting up any resistance, and Tony’s heart skipped a beat when he felt the gentle push back of Bruce against him. And then Tony pulled away slowly, not wanting to push it, not this time. Their eyes never left each other’s faces, and they hovered, their noses a few inches away. Tony bit his lip. “That was… That’s the real me. The real me wants you so bad, Bruce Banner. And I swear the real me is not usually this fucking cheesy.”

Bruce blushed. “Fuck, Tony, I…” Tony blinked, worried at the hesitation in his tone, but Bruce had always been a cautious person. He was still probably pulling his thoughts together. He gave him some time. “I don’t… I didn’t know whether I was misinterpreting what I was feeling.” Bruce said eventually. Tony snorted. He was such a scientist. Bruce shot him an almost reproachful look. “God, it scared the shit out of me, Tony. I mean, we only met a few months ago, and I’ve never… With another guy, I’ve never, um. I’ve never really been attracted to another guy before.”

Tony nodded. “Well, I mean, I do like girls too. I’ve never actually _been_ with a guy but, you know, I notice things, like Thor’s biceps and Barton’s ass from time to time.” Bruce snorted. “Have you seen how tight his pants are though? Like, _seriously._ ” He laughed, before remembering, serious talk about emotions and stuff. “But I’d always kind of pushed them back, you know? And then you walk into this dorm with your glasses and your fucking braces-” Bruce suddenly pressed his lips together self-consciously. “No, you idiot, I _like_ them. They’re a part of you. You were just so fucking precious, and I thought you were going to be a nightmare. But then, you know, I found out we had quite a lot in common. With the science and everything. I felt like, maybe we could be friends, or something. And then that pretentious douchebag walks along and snatches you away, and I didn’t know what I was feeling. God, I just _hated_ him for taking you away from me. Even Thor noticed, because I kept glaring at Loki when I passed him in corridors and apparently, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of _you_.”

“He knows?” Bruce said, worriedly.

“No, he could just tell that something was wrong between us. He can be pretty perceptive when he’s thinking out of his head not his muscles.”

“I thought you liked the muscles.” Bruce smirked.

“The muscles are... Can we- Back on topic? Where was I?” Tony laughed.

“Inability to keep your eyes off of me, I believe.”

Tony grinned. “Oh yeah. Basically, I’ve wanted to kiss you for about a month now, but my head has been screaming all this ‘Shut up, Tony, he’s totally and completely 100% hetero and you’re almost 100% hetero’ shit at me, and telling me not to embarrass myself by trying it on with straight guys.”

“It appears I have some flexibility in my hetero.” Bruce said seriously.

“And isn’t that fortunate for me?” Tony grinned.

“So where do we stand now?”

This was the hurdle Tony still had to face. He grimaced. “I don’t know.” He said eventually.

“Let me guess. You have homophobic father issues to deal with.” Bruce said sympathetically.

“Everything I do in this place is reported back to him in an instant. And I can’t… Fuck, Bruce, I’m sorry, people can’t know.” Tony felt terrible for forcing his shitty situation on Bruce. “What about your dad? Will he-”

Bruce laughed humourlessly. “My father already hates my guts. I doubt the fact that I’m kissing guys now is going to make much difference to how much he already hates me.” Tony opened his mouth, and Bruce cut him off. “If you even try to say sorry right now, I will slap you into next week.”

Tony laughed. “You got me.” He shrugged.

“So, secret boyfriends it is, then.” Bruce said brightly. “We’re together, but it stays within these four walls.”

Tony sighed. “I can just tell that I’m going to hate this already.” He said bitterly. “But I don’t even want to consider what Howard would do if he knew. First thing, you’d be out of this school before you could say ‘rainbow flags’.”

“Tony, I get it. And in a few years’ time, you’ll be legally an adult and you can make your own choices, but for now, it’s best for both of us to keep this a secret. Like you said, he can fuck up my life almost as easily as he can fuck up yours, and you know, despite the really irritating roommate, I do kind of like this school.”

“You think your roommate is annoying, fucking hell, you should meet mine.” Tony smirked. Bruce flicked him off, and yawned.

“Fuck, I’m tired. This whole ‘screaming and crying and inadvertently getting into secret relationships’ thing is exhausting.” Bruce joked. “Good night, Tony.”

“Good night, Bruce.”

And Bruce leant in and gave Tony a gentle peck on the lips that made his heart race irrationally fast, and they both got ready for bed, and Tony fell asleep thinking about Bruce’s lips on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, come hang out with me on [ tumblr](http://alpha-lahey.tumblr.com).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Saturday rolls around again!
> 
> This chapter (and well, the entire fic, really) is for Moby, for reasons.

“So, what was it that brought you back, scholarship?” Clint sneered as Bruce sat down next to Tony shyly the following day. Breakfast had managed to pass without incident, but it seemed that Barton could get through two successive meal times without making some kind of comment. Tony saw Bruce tense beside him.

“Drop it, Clint. And don’t call him that.” Tony said sharply, as Bruce blushed. He hadn’t even thought about this as a problem, but looking back, this in itself was going to seem really suspicious. _Fuck it,_ Tony thought, _it’s not like I’m going to make him sit by himself._

“I can sit somewhere else, Tony, it’s not a big deal…” Bruce said quietly, as if he was reading Tony’s mind.

“Bruce, shut up. Clint, he’s sitting with us, and if you have a problem with him, _you_ can move somewhere else, see if I care. Now grow the fuck up.” Clint shot Bruce a look of severe dislike, but slumped back into his seat and tore off a chunk of his sandwich without response. Tony looked to Steve and Thor, an eyebrow raised. “Do either of you have a problem? Because if you do, I’d rather that you raise it now.”

Steve shook his head, a knowing smirk playing on his lips, and Thor proceeded to boom, “Of course not, Tony!” with an enormous grin plastered across his face, eyes twinkling. Tony repressed the urge to groan.

The conversation was stilted, as Barton was sulking in peace, Thor and Steve prioritised nourishment over stimulating conversation, and Bruce just looked supremely awkward, and kept glancing subconsciously over his shoulder to where Luke was sat, eating alone and looking even more hostile and surly than usual. Tony put his hand gently on Bruce’s knee, and he visibly jumped. “You okay, Brucey?” Tony asked loudly, and Bruce flushed a deep red, and nodded.

“Oh, um, yeah, I’m fine.” He said sheepishly, and didn’t look over at Loki again. Tony gently squeezed his leg under the table, then went back to eating his cereal as if nothing had happened.

“You really do not understand the ‘secret’ part of this whole thing, do you?” Bruce rolled his eyes as they made their way to their classes. “It involves acting like _acquaintances_ , and certainly not putting hands on knees over breakfast.

“It was a friendly action.” Tony said defensively. “Is that not allowed?”

“As far as everyone else knows, Tony, we are not even _friends,_ let alone anything more. I sleep in your room, and you snark about it. That’s what _this-_ ” He gestured between Tony and himself randomly. “Looks like to the outside world. And if it starts to look like anything else, even just more like _friends_ than roommates, people will talk.”

“So, nothing at all outside the room? Not even friends?” Tony asked, frowning.

“We can probably get away with just about friends, but nothing more. It’s not worth the risk.”

“…This is going to suck, isn’t it?” He said after a second or two.

Bruce nodded absently. “It’s for the better, at least for now. There’s nothing I’d like more than to jump up on the table and tell the world that you’re my boyfriend, but I don’t think that that is really a particularly good idea.”

Tony couldn’t stop the grin spread across his face. “So is that what we are now?” He asked, looking at Bruce playfully. “ _Boyfriends_?”

Bruce shrugged. “I guess that depends on what you want it to be.” He said ever trying to be the diplomat. “I don’t want to, um, tie you down or anything, if you want to-” He looked suddenly nervous, and Tony elbowed him.

“I just want you, Bruce.” He interrupted, before Bruce embarrassed both of them. “‘Boyfriends’ is perfectly fine. Great, in fact.”

They reached the door to their classroom, and Tony hung back as Bruce entered alone, so it didn’t look like they had arrived together, before Tony sauntered in a minute or so later. He spared one glance at the boy in the front row with the glasses and the braces and the dorky grin stretched across his face, before taking his customary seat at the back of the room.

Tony knew this was dangerous, and stupid, and really likely to backfire on him in a huge way, but he hadn’t felt as happy in a long time as he did right now. He kept looking over at the back of Bruce’s head throughout the lesson, and got called out several times for staring out of window instead of making notes or even listening. He was acting like a lovestruck, twelve year old girl, and he didn’t care in the slightest.

The afternoon crawled by, and just as he was looking forward to returning to his room and hopefully having a good long make out with Banner, he remembered the fucking detentions. He was in half a mind to text Bruce to persuade him to skip it and go straight to the dormitories, but he knew that the other boy would never do that, and anyway, it would only result in extra punishment in the long run.

In a change from their tradition, Tony actually arrived at the detention room before Bruce did. When the other boy did eventually make it (ten minutes late), he sat down in his usual seat wordlessly, like any other detention, and pulled one of his textbooks from his bag, setting it on the desk with a loud thud.

“Where have you been?” Tony smirked, sliding around to sit next to Bruce, close enough so that their legs were pressed together. Bruce shifted away just a little.

“I had to have a word with a teacher about some work.” He said expressionlessly, still not looking over at his boyfriend.

Tony frowned at the cold response. “You okay?” He asked, and Bruce ignored him. “Oh, okay.” He said slowly, realisation dawning on him bitterly. “Okay. Can you just say it quickly please? I’ve been out with enough people to know what this bit means. Normally, this is about where I jump in and do it before you would have a chance, but I’m not going to let you go that easily.”

Bruce finally spared him a glance. “What the hell are you even talking about?” He said incredulously.

“You’re ending it, aren’t you?” Tony said flatly, and Bruce looked at him, bewildered. “You’re ending it, breaking up with me, calling for ‘some time apart to find yourself’… I don’t care how you word it, just spit it out and get it over with.”

“Tony, what makes you think that I’m splitting up with you?” Bruce said, confused. “Because, just to clarify, I am definitely not. Not ever. Certainly after less than twenty four hours.” Tony didn’t say anything further, but just sat and waited for Bruce to explain what was wrong. It worked. Bruce sighed and brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his temples. “It’s just… You know… This is… Are you sure it’s worth it?” He said, studying the desk, as if looking for some kind of secret message scratched into the wood. “The fact that you’ve made the need for secrecy clear, and the whole thing with your dad… I just… I want to make sure you know what you are risking. For me.”

Tony swallowed as a lump appeared in his throat, but his shook it off. “Bruce, don’t be a dick. I’m not going to let my fucking asshole of a father dictate what I can and cannot do, and who I can and cannot date. Sure, I’m not planning to parade it in front of him, but I’m not going to hide it either. I’m 100% serious about us, Bruce. I promise.”

Bruce smiled at him gently. “I’m really going to miss you over Christmas, Tony.”

Tony swore. “The holidays always come around too fast.” He complained. “I’d honestly rather stay here.” Howard was always unbearable at Christmas, tending to drink one too many flutes of champagne and then proceed to shout abuse at Tony, who was forced to sit through it with gritted teeth. Sometimes, he apologised the following morning, saying it was the alcohol talking, and not him. When he was a kid, Howard would always take him shopping and treat him to a new mp3 player, or camera, or microscope or whatever it was that Tony wanted in an attempt to rebuy his affection, but it stopped working as soon as Tony fully understood exactly what Howard’s insults meant. Now, Tony would be very lucky to get so much as a sideways glance, and Tony was too clever to be bought off with his father’s bribery.

“Same.” Bruce nodded. “Let’s just say alcohol and my father is not in the slightest what you’d call a good combination.” He said drily, but Tony could hear the tension in his tone.

“Come to mine for Christmas.” He blurted.

Bruce blinked. “Um. I don’t- Won’t your family mind?”

“Nah. I tend to avoid them. To be honest, I can’t imagine the holidays at my place will be any better than yours will.” He admitted. “I mean, if you want to go home, that’s fine too, I just thought I’d extend the invitation.” He could see Bruce considering his options, his brow furrowed in thought.

“I can’t imagine it will be any worse than at my house.” He said eventually, and Tony grinned. “And besides, at least we’ll be together.”

*

“Tony? Is that you?” Bruce murmured drowsily.

“Shit, sorry. I was trying to be quiet. How do you do this?” Tony groaned. “I have soccer training this morning. Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” He hummed, and snuggled back down under his duvet, his curls sinking in to the pillow. Tony couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly and wishing that he could get under the duvet next to Bruce, and sleep for another hour or so. Sighing, he braced himself for the world outside the dorm room, and made his way outside.

Despite the brief hold up in the room, he was still the first to arrive down at the field. It was pitch black and icy cold, the ground hard under his feet as he shivered, waiting for the rest of the team.

“Stark.” Ms. Danvers called from the relative warmth of the small equipment shed. “You may as well come in here, until everyone else arrives. You’re a little early, and I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” Tony didn’t hesitate. He felt like his fingers and toes were going to fall off if he spent another second outside. “I know it’s not customary, but I was considering making you a co-captain this season.”

A wide grin broke across Tony’s face. Sport captains were seniors- that was just how it has always been. “Co-captain? Seriously?” He said, excited.

“Yes, seriously.” She smiled back. “You have huge amounts of talent, Tony, and… Well, to put it politely, our senior year isn’t the strongest in terms of soccer ability. You will be co-captaining with Justin, and we’ll see how it goes.”

Tony’s heart sank a little bit. Justin Hammer was not exactly his _favourite_ person in the world, and by that, he meant he really, really hated him. Justin’s father’s company was a less successful rival to Howard’s, and predictably, that had never exactly encouraged a friendship. But hey, soccer co-captain. It was time for their differences to be put aside, right? “Oh, cool.” He said, trying not to sound to put out. “I don’t know him all that well, but…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

Ms. Danvers nodded anyway. “But please bear in mind that this is under the condition that you work properly together. Because if you don’t, and we have to go down to one captain, it’s unlikely to be you, Stark. There would just be too much backlash. So, for your own sake, try to make this work, okay?”

“Sure thing.” He grinned. Steve was going to be _pissed_.

The rest of the team began to show up in various states of consciousness, with many yawns and a lot of tired eye-rubbing. “Right then, kids!” Danvers yelled over the murmuring and grumbling. “First things first: Your new _co-_ captains for this year…” At this point, there was usually a suspenseful and tense silence as the most popular seniors crossed their fingers and the most talented ones smirked cockily. But this year, it was broken by the repeated whisper of ‘ _co_ -captains?’- not that that stopped Tony from assuming the classic arrogant smirk.

“Yes, you heard me right. This year’s co-captains will be Justin Hammer-”

“Yes!” The older boy hissed, and Tony rolled his eyes as his friends all patted him on the back in congratulations while sending each other scowls behind his back.

“-and Tony Stark.” Ms. Danvers finished, ignoring the interruption.

Tony swore that you could have heard a pin drop. “Shit.” Steve whispered, as everyone turned to stare at him. “But-”

“But he’s a _junior!_ ” Hammer protested angrily. “I’m not opposed to sharing captaincy with a _senior_ , but this just isn’t fair!” He shot Tony an evil look, and Tony smirked back even wider.

“I suggest you be quiet, Hammer.” The coach said coolly. “Or you won’t even be co-captain. My decision is final. Now, I propose that you work together nicely, or I can assure you, I will have something to say about it.”

Other than the leadership upheaval, the practise went pretty smoothly, as everyone was pretty focussed in preparation for their game coming up a few weeks after Christmas break. It was set to be one of the biggest games of the season, since the school had appeared from mid-tables to be competing with the biggest teams for the first time ever this year.

After about three quarters of an hour, Tony began to feel the now familiar sensation of struggling to breathe. He willed himself on, telling himself that stopping now, on his first training since being made co-captain, would just raise doubts over his ability to lead the team, and that was exactly what Hammer wanted. Nevertheless, he was glad when Danvers blew her whistle fifteen minutes later, and tried to regain his breath as subtly as possible.

“I know we usually crush Aequitas Institute about ten nil, but I don’t want anyone getting complacent.” Hammer said in what was now apparently an obligatory post-practise captain speech. “They’ve got a new striker who is unstoppable, according to the blogs.”

“I’m sorry, but are there _really_ blogs dedicated to tracking the American Private Schools’ soccer league?” Steve rolled his eyes, and Tony smirked. “Like, I’m _in_ the fucking league and I don’t give a shit.”

Hammer shot him an annoyed look. “Yes, fortunately for us, there are, because they give us a leg up about our competition.”

“Look, guys.” Tony interrupted, taking one last deep breath. “I’m all for not getting complacent, but I’m also all for not getting unnecessarily stressed out. Yes, this Wayne guy is a great player, I’m not denying that. But no matter how good one player is, the game is won by the team, and we’ve never had a problem beating Aequitas before. They still have the same gaping holes in their defense, and they still have that idiot Curry as their keeper, who, if you remember, conceded a record number of goals last season. Don’t sweat it. We train hard, we stay cool and most importantly of all, we don’t let any of this hype distract us from being on our best form.”

Somewhere near the back of the huddle, someone called out in agreement, and it spread almost instantaneously, until the entire team was clapping and cheering Tony’s name. Justin looked like he was chewing on a lemon.

“I can’t believe you made co-captain.” Steve said, shaking his head as they hurried back up to their dorms. “You are so damn lucky.”

Tony shrugged with a smirk on his face. “Well, I guess I’m just really, really great at soccer.”

“Or… It’s because your dad pretty much owns this place, and therefore you get fuck loads of preferential treatment.”

Tony whirled around to see Justin walking behind them, looking bitter. “What did you just say?” Tony fumed.

“You heard me. You know everyone is thinking it, Stark. This whole school is under yourdaddy’s command. It’s the only reason you haven’t been expelled about forty times. Hell, it’s the only reason people even _talk_ to you. Because of your father, and his money.”

“Fuck off, Hammer.” Tony said quietly.

A grin spread across the older boy’s face. “You know it’s true, don’t you, Stark? Your father is fifty times the man you will ever be.”

“I said, _fuck off!_ ” He repeated, still in the same deadly tone. Hammer smirked infuriating once more, and Tony snapped. There was a satisfying crunch as his face impacted Justin’s nose.

“Tony, don’t!” Steve protested. “He’s not worth it!” Steve pulled him back, and Justin grimaced as blood trickled from his nose.

“You’re a psychopath, Stark.” He spat. “A fucking psychopath.”

“And like you said so well yourself, Hammer; my father is the only reason I haven’t been expelled. You got hit in the face by a soccer ball at practise, if you know what’s good for you.” Tony warned, his hands shaking. “Now, I’ll say it once more- _Fuck. Off.”_

*

Whispers followed Tony around all day, even more so than usual. Even his teachers gave him a wide berth, content to let him do whatever he wanted in class, as if they knew what had transpired. True to the unwritten student code though, Hammer hadn’t told anyone the truth, so no-one dared confront him.

Well, almost no-one.

“Tony, did you punch Justin Hammer in the face?” Pepper stormed up to him at lunch, her strawberry blonde hair swept back out of her face, which only served to emphasise the anger contorting her features.

Tony smirked cockily. “No, I did not. Soccer ball to the face, that’s what everybody is saying. Although, even if I did hit him, it would only have been because he totally deserved it, the fucking asshole.”

“So what exactly was it that prompted this accidental contact between soccer ball and Hammer’s nose?” Pepper snorted, humouring Tony’s transparent lie and taking a seat at the otherwise empty table. “Or was it simply because the ball hadn’t made contact with anyone’s face lately and thought it was about time?”

Tony still had his trademark confident grin spread across his face. “Being a bit harsh on the ball there, Potts. It’s not usually that violent, and when it is, it’s generally for good reason.”

“While I must admit I am loving this comparison between you and a ball, Stark, can we get to the point?” Pepper lifted an eyebrow questioningly. “Did you provoke Hammer?”

“No!” Tony protested. Pepper blinked wordlessly, obviously exuding the attitude that she didn’t _quite_ believe him. “What? I didn’t! Danvers made me co-captain with him, Hammer told me it was just because of my father and that I had pretty much bought the position, and I punched him in the face. It was justified! Sort of.”

Pepper sighed. “Yes Tony, because that was clearly the best response.”

Tony was distracted, looking behind Pepper at the main door to the cafeteria, keeping an eye out for Bruce. She noticed. “Who are you looking for?” She frowned, glancing over her shoulder quickly. “I seriously doubt Hammer is gonna come out and start a fight in front of two hundred witnesses, if that’s it.”

Tony nodded and didn’t bother correcting her. “He got what he deserved.” He said firmly, his voice containing no hint of regret. Pepper winced at the bluntness of his tone.

“Be that as it may… Just watch it, Stark, okay? One day, you are going to overstep the line and your father’s money won’t be able to protect you. You’re an idiot, but I do care about you, and I don’t want you the throw your life and all your opportunities away over someone as worthless as Justin Hammer.”

Tony nodded again. Pepper and him may have never worked out romantically quite as he might have wished, but she was a good friend and a genuinely nice person, and maybe now that he was no longer making misguided attempts to get her in his bed, they could go back to how they were when they first met. “Thanks, Pepper.” He said quietly, and she reached out to take his hand, and squeezed it gently.

“Potts.” Barton scowled, glaring at her as he arrived at their table. “You are in my seat.”

Tony snorted, his shield of bravado make up as Pepper raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Okay, Sheldon Cooper, calm down.” She laughed, and moved next to Tony.

“That’s where Banner sits.” Clint said, with hostility. Seeing as Clint would seemingly prefer that Bruce sat in a muddy puddle a thousand miles away, Tony thought this complaint was a bit rich.

“I’m sensing some tension here.” Pepper smirked. “What’s up, Barton? Is this about Romanoff?”

Clint ignored her, sat down in his recently vacated seat and ferociously stabbed his lunch with a fork.

“It is, isn’t it?” said Pepper, glee creeping into her voice. “Hey! Natasha!” She shouted across the room, to where the red head was standing surrounded by a crowd of twittering admirers. She looked towards them, and Pepper beckoned her over. Clint’s face froze in horror, and he glared at Pepper once more.

“Did you want something, Pepper?” She said, her eyes twinkling as she smirked at her sudden company. “Stark… Barton. Can I help you with something?”

Pepper sniggered, Barton groaned quietly and Tony was in his element. “Clint wants to ask you out.” Tony said helpfully. Natasha looked between Tony’s wide grin, Pepper’s badly disguised sniggering and Clint’s mortification which he was hopelessly trying to hide, and laughed.

“You know what, Barton? That sounds like fun. How about Friday night, at the cinema? I’ll let you choose the film. Besides, I have to judge your taste.” And with that, she stalked away, leaving the three of them staring gobsmacked at her retreating figure.

“Wait, what?” Tony said, his mouth hanging open. “Clint, did you just pull Natasha Romanoff? Even after she told you, like, a month ago, that you had absolutely no chance?”

“I have a date… With Natasha.” Clint repeated, breaking into a grin. “Oh my god.”

Pepper burst out laughing, and Tony scowled a little as Clint continued to look shocked at the turn of events. Tony still wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t some sort of elaborate prank.

Pepper was still giggling when Bruce eventually showed up. He hesitated for a second, then sat down on the other side of Tony and began to sheepishly pick at his salad.

“Banner, you’re not going to believe this,” Pepper said, looking across Tony to Bruce. “Barton got a date with Natasha.”

Bruce smiled weakly. “I thought he’d been told he had no chance?” He said after a few seconds’ pause, glancing between the boy in question, and Tony and Pepper.

Tony shrugged. “I think she’s playing him.” He said, offhand, and Clint scowled at him.

“Just because you tried to get with her last year and she stood you up.” He taunted.

Before Tony could reply with a biting comment, Thor and Steve sat down at whichever places were left, and Clint threw himself into retelling the story once more.

It was their final detention for the whole exploding chemistry experiment incident that afternoon, and while he was sure he’d be back soon enough, he couldn’t help but be glad he had the hour back for now.

“I think I’m gonna miss this place.” Bruce said wistfully as he looked around at the blank grey walls. “I mean, all the good memories…”

Tony glanced across at him slyly. “Well…” He began, before stopping, a mischievous look on his face. Bruce looked at him, prompting him on. “I was gonna say… We still have some time to make some good memories in here… If you catch my drift.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Then I guess I should lead better.” Tony smirked, and managed an impressive manoeuvre involving vaulting two row of desks without breaking anything, before grabbing Bruce by the collar and pushing him against the wall roughly. “Getting the idea?” He whispered, his lips brushing the exposed skin just below Bruce’s ear.

Bruce shivered and nodded jerkily, his hands clenched tight by his sides. “You can touch, you know.” Tony said lightly. “Free of charge, just for you.”

Bruce laughed softly, and rested his hands awkwardly on Tony’s waist. “Is this… Is this okay?” He asked nervously.

Tony snickered. “I’m pushing you against the wall and trying to make out with you in detention when anyone could walk in, and you’re asking me whether it’s okay for you to put your hands on my waist? Bruce, it’s _fine._ ” Tony’s lips crashed into Bruce’s desperately, as if it was the only thing that mattered in that moment, and the other boy gasped quietly. Tony felt his grip on his waist tighten noticeably; it was just bordering on uncomfortable, but he was too busy elsewhere to really think about it at the time.

Bruce hesitantly parted his lips, a move Tony wasn’t expecting him to make, not at this stage by any means. Surprised, but not exactly with reluctance, Tony obliged the unspoken request, and nudged his tongue past Bruce’s lips. He was amazed by his own self-control; usually, by this point, there would be more than one large hickey blossoming on the other person’s neck, and most likely a hand wandering south at the very least.

Tony didn’t know why Bruce was different, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just because Banner was a guy. There was something about the boy that just _clicked_ , and whatever it was, it made Tony crave something more than the quick flings and meaningless fucks that he had shared with a large number of girls at Erskine.

“Fuck.” He whispered. Bruce looked at him in surprise, worry tracing the edges of his eyes. Tony didn’t even remember stopping the kiss. Bruce was already biting on his bottom lip, a nervous tic that Tony had noticed even in the short amount of time that he had known him. “Hey, no, I didn’t mean- I just realised…” Tony shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “I like you a lot.” He finished, somewhat lamely, and Bruce allowed a small smile to spread across his face.

“That’s good to hear, Tony.” He joked. “I just about manage to tolerate your company, too.” Tony hit him in what he meant to be a playful manner, but Bruce yelped. “You’re mean.” He pouted, pretending to be hurt, but his eyes betrayed him- Tony could see the laughter in them.

“Let me make it up to you.” Tony said smoothly, slipping back closer to Bruce and pursing his lips exaggeratedly. Bruce laughed and pushed him firmly, causing Tony to stagger backwards for a few steps.

“As much as I think I’d enjoy that, I really think that this would be safer behind closed doors.”

“Can we just skip detention, please?” Tony asked, his eyes wide. Bruce shook his head, laughing, and managed to side step Tony and find his way to his now customary detention seat. “Urgh, fine.” Tony conceded, sitting down behind him and proceeding to kick the chair periodically.

It was purely a matter of Bruce’s honesty that Tony was stuck in the detention classroom for an hour after lessons had finished, since no supervising teacher ever showed up. Tony suspected it was supposed to be Danvers covering, who was notorious for her opposing view to detention, believing that twenty laps around the school playing field every day for a month would be a far more effective punishment.

“What are you two doing in here?” Coulson, however, did stick his head around the door as a part of his incredibly important prefectly duties, and obviously found the need to ask the stupidest question he could think of.

“Having a wild sex party.” Tony said flatly. “What does it look like, Coulson?”

He narrowed his eyes. “If you are doing detention, why are you alone?”

“I’m pretty sure we are only responsible for ensuring that _we_ show up… We can’t exactly be blamed for the teacher not showing up, can we?” Tony had barely opened his mouth when Bruce beat him to it, casually throwing out a sarcastic retort. Tony laughed, and Prefect Phil looked deeply affronted, as if the two boys’ lack of concern for the rules was a personal insult to him and his position as a representative of the student body.

“Right.” He said, looking from one to the other and taking in the identical smirks on their faces. “Well, you can go now, it’s been an hour. I’ll let the teacher know that you were here.”

Tony snatched his bag up quickly and darted from the room, Bruce following in his wake.

“And _try_ to stay out of trouble for a few days at least, Stark?” Phil called after them rolling his eyes. “It reflects badly on me, you know.”

Tony sniggered. Coulson knew perfectly well that his opinion on any sort of authority figures wasn’t exactly positive. “So, Banner…” Tony said slyly as soon as they were out of earshot. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

A grin flickered across Bruce’s face, before he straightened his expression back out into a poker face and shrugged, offhand. “I don’t really know… I think we have some Chemistry homework that’s due soon… Maybe we should get that out of the way?”

“Wasn’t quite what I had in mind, I must say.”

“That World History essay, maybe?” Bruce continued, as he pushed open the door into the dormitory building. “Or we could go and listen to Barton bragging about how Romanoff totally loved him the whole time?”

Tony groaned. “I honestly think I would rather do homework.” He halted at the bottom of the stairs, letting Bruce go up first and following a few minutes later to eliminate suspicion.

“Well, do you have any other suggestions?” Bruce said innocently, pausing three or four steps up and turning back.

Tony pretended to think for a second. “I guess I _could_ drag you up to our room, throw you on the bed and ravish your mouth until neither of us can think straight?”

“Now that sounds like a plan.” He grinned, hurrying upstairs.

Tony was looked down at his watch, trying to decide what a reasonable amount of time to wait was, when he heard footsteps coming down the staircase.

“If you think this is subtle, I’d hate to see what you think is blindingly obvious.” Loki sneered. “Next time you decide to have a conversation about what I can only assume was ‘making out’ in public, you should probably consider lowering the volume… You never know who could be listening…”

He tried to slip back Tony, his trademark superior expression still plastered on his face, but Tony grabbed his arm firmly and pulled him back. “We were _joking,_ Loki. It’s what friends do.”

“Yes, Stark, it very much sounded platonic and heterosexual.”

Tony flushed angrily. “Me and Bruce aren’t… We’re not- We are not a _thing_.” Tony emphasised, still clenching Loki’s pale arm. There would probably be bruises there by tomorrow, but Tony didn’t care. “And no-one’s going to believe that.” He added, taking in Loki’s still proud, smug expression.

“I know they won’t. Not yet, at least.” Loki said calmly. “But once you’ve planted the rumour in people’s heads, they suddenly become far better at fitting in the rest of the pieces. A few comments about you and Banner, and I promise you, I could have the whole school believing it in a matter of days.” Loki tugged his arm out of Tony’s grip.

He ran a hand through his hair anxiously, trying to work out the best thing to do, and Loki walked past him and hesitated by the door.

“It’s been a pleasure talking with you, Stark.” He grinned cockily.

Tony ground his teeth and watched helplessly as Loki sauntered outside and headed towards the main building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, come hang with me on the [tumblah](http://alpha-lahey.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Until next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whose job was it to remind me to post yesterday?

“You took a while.” Bruce grinned when Tony opened their door. He’d already taken off his tie and undone the top few buttons of his shirt, a move unusual for Bruce.

“Just being cautious.” Tony smiled back, turning the key in the lock. He decided that letting Bruce know now that Loki was on to them would ruin the mood, and be counter-productive to his attempt to get Bruce’s lips on his own once more. “Now, where were we?”

“I seem to recall something about me, you, your bed and possibly mouths being ravished?” Bruce said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Tony loved this light, happy side of Bruce, and not just because he was less likely to be snarked at and/or have his head bitten off. It was almost like seeing Bruce happy made him happy.

“In light of these, ahem, new developments, I think we should really consider getting a bolt.” Bruce said with a grin. “There’d be a slight issue if Clint burst in here at a time like this.”

“Well then, why don’t we give him a show?” Tony smirked, and Bruce laughed, and before the sound had died from the air, Tony swooped in and their mouths connected. They tumbled backwards, collapsing on to Tony’s bed, just as he had promised.

It was a kiss more forceful than any they had had before, with lots of tongue and teeth crashing together. Bruce’s braces clattered awkwardly in the embrace, making Tony smile despite himself, but it was very _Bruce_. The unfamiliar sensation of rough skin and chapped lips made Tony’s stomach flip, a contrast to the usual smooth and soft of Pepper or any other girl he had ever kissed. It felt nice, he decided, different but nice.

In a display of strength beyond what Tony would ever have expected of Bruce, he was flipped over on to his back, while Bruce straddled his thighs, lowering his lips to Tony’s hair line and dropping tiny kisses across his forehead. Tony gulped. “Something the matter?” Bruce murmured softly, and Tony shook his head jerkily.

“Um, n-no. No, I’m fine.” He said, his voice embarrassingly high pitched and squeaky. Bruce nodded absently, and pressed his lips against Tony’s again, very gently this time. Tony reached up and tangled a hand in Bruce’s wild curls and tugged him closer, holding their heads together as he explored every inch of Bruce’s mouth. Tony’s tongue brushed against the other boy’s, and a shiver ran down his spine. Bruce rocked his hips down involuntarily, and Tony felt it. There was an unquestionable hardness pressing into his thigh. “Er, Bruce?” He said, smirking.

Bruce blushed a bright red, mortified, and scrambled away from Tony as quickly as he could. “Oh, God, um, shit, Tony, I’m so sorry, I-”

Tony laughed. “Bruce, shut up.” He cut over, and Bruce did as he was told. “It’s fine. It’s totally natural. In fact, I’m totally going to take it as a compliment on my amazing make out skills.” But even as Tony was saying it, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of that. The tented fabric of his school trousers was blindingly obvious as he hovered uneasily in the middle of the room, and he knew that he should look away, but he couldn’t.

“Tony, please can you stop looking at my dick?” Bruce snapped eventually. He sunk down on to his own bed and tucked his knees up to hide the evidence, embarrassed. “You’re staring at me like I’m a fucking freak.”

Tony bit his lip, trying to work out the best way to voice ‘I don’t think you’re a freak at all, in fact, I’d rather like to get better acquainted with that truly remarkable cock of yours.’ without sending Bruce running. “I don’t think you’re a freak at all…” He started, and Bruce looked at him expectantly to finish the sentence. “Um… Do you want me to leave for a bit? And come back… Um… Later?” Bruce showed no signs that he was going to respond, so Tony blustered on for a little longer, deciding to attempt to alleviate some of the tension by cracking a joke. “Or I could stay, if you want. Give you a hand, maybe?”

“No!” Bruce said quickly, almost shouting. “I mean, um, I’m not… I’m not…”

“Bruce, I was joking. You’re not ready, I get it.” Bruce sighed in relief, and Tony stood up. “I’m going to go hang with Thor for a bit, okay? Send me a text when you’re all sorted.”

He had his hand on the door handle, when Bruce muttered from behind him. “Sorry, Tony.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Banner.” He replied, reassuringly. “It’s most definitely a compliment.”

Tony, using every bit of his wit and cunning, managed to track down Thor in Steve and Clint’s room. The latter was not in there, but Thor and Steve were deeply engrossed in a conversation about the pros and cons of Twizzlers versus Red Vines.

“Sorry, Rogers, I’m with Thor on this one. It’s Red Vines all the way, my friend.” Tony chipped in, taking a seat casually. “Even if it’s a pain in the ass to find them on the East Coast.”

“Yeah, it’s easier to get Twizzlers, because they are nicer.” Steve argued. “Red Vines taste like chalk.”

Thor huffed. “I don’t know what kind of Red Vines you’ve been eating.” He retorted angrily. “But then again, I have distrusted your choice of sweet food items ever since you said that Pop Tarts were offensive to your taste buds.”

“Okay, kids, calm down.” Tony interrupted, holding up his hands. “The fact that you are seriously having an argument about this is kind of tragic. You really need to get laid.”

“Not everything is about sex, Tony.” Steve said primly.

“Not everything is about fruit flavoured liquorice straws either.” Tony replied, smirking. “Why don’t you go and see if Peggy is around?”

Steve blushed. His blindingly obvious crush on the senior, Peggy Carter, was a sore spot. “Why should I care what Peggy is doing?” He tried to sound indifferent, but no-one was buying it.

“No idea, Rogers.” Tony grinned. “Why would you care about the hot, older and British focus of your sexual fantasies?” Steve ground his teeth but resisted the temptation to spit back an angry retort.

Thor looked uncharacteristically thoughtful. “But Tony… When was the last time you engaged in relations- or even in mere conversation- with a maiden that wasn’t Miss Potts?” Steve held his hand up to give Thor a high five, and the boy just looked at it oddly for a few seconds, before Steve lowered it, sighing.

Tony acted offended, but his heart was crashing in his chest, the beats skipping wildly. “How dare you say such a thing? I’m a stud. Girls trip over their feet to get a good view of me walking down the corridor.” This wasn’t even particularly exaggerated; two freshmen girls once had a fight resulting in one being pushed down the stairs in order to stand next to Tony in the cafeteria line.

“Yeah, and you always turn them down, or ignore them after one night. Unless it’s Pepper.”

“Maybe Pepper is just a better date.” He said defensively. “You’re having a go at me for not being a massive whore? I mean, what about Barton?”

“Did you just say that I was a whore? Fuck you, Stark.” Of course, Clint chose that moment to walk in. In his archery gear. Complete with loaded crossbow. While Tony still doubted the authenticity of the archery squad, he didn’t really care to test Clint’s ability at such a short range. Tony was going cross eyed in an attempt to keep the arrow in focus.

“Okay, wow, jeesh Barton. You’re not a whore.” Tony said quickly, deciding that however big and bold his ego might be, it wasn’t going to protect him from an arrow in the face, and even with two witnesses, he wouldn’t actually put it past Clint to shoot. “Can you please get that bow out of my face?” Clint narrowed his eyes, but eventually lowered the weapon with reluctance.

“I’m not a whore. Unlike you sorry assholes, I’ve g-”

“You have a date with Natasha Romanoff in three days?” Tony supplied helpfully, having recovered from his near death experience.

“It’s actually seventy four hours, Tony.” Steve corrected. “We’ve been lucky enough to receive hourly updates.”

Clint shot them all sour looks. “At least I have a girlfriend-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Tony said absently. His phone had just buzzed and he was suddenly so not interested in their immature debate. “You guys are boring the hell out of me, I’m going.” He probably could have left in a smoother, less suspicious manner, but he didn’t exactly care at that moment. “I’ll see you all later. Try not to kill anyone, Barton.” He stood up and left the room hastily, conscious of the odd looks the other boys were giving him behind his back.

Bruce was sat on the edge of his bed, his phone still clutched in his hand. “Hey.” He said quietly when Tony walked in. His face was flushed, and Tony tried not to think how much of that was to do with his embarrassment and how much to do with what Bruce had been up to while he was out of the room.

“Relax, Bruce.” Tony reprimanded lightly, teasing him. “If I was scared of dicks, I wouldn’t have suggested this thing between us.”

It was meant as a joke, but Bruce just nodded slowly. “Sorry.” He said again, and Tony grabbed a shoe from by the door and threw it at Bruce’s head, only narrowly missing him. “What the hell was that for?” He said, the attempted assault making him actually look up at Tony.

“Stop apologising! You got a boner, no big deal. It was kind of cute, actually.” Tony said, sitting down next to Bruce, trying to reassure him a little.

Bruce screwed up his eyes, as if trying to muster the courage to say something. “Tony, I…” He took a deep breath and looked straight into Tony’s eyes. “I’m a virgin.”

Tony snorted. “I did actually figure that one out on my own, Banner. And I don’t care. If I just wanted a fantastic fuck, I could get one from anywhere, and in particular, with someone less likely to offend my father than you. The reason that I’m not doing that is because I care about you. Kind of a lot. And even if you turn out to be terrible in bed, which I doubt, since you seem to be amazing at everything to put your hand to, I’m still not going to dump you on your ass.”

Bruce smiled despite himself. “Thanks, Tony. For, um, understanding. And I care about you too.” There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two of them, and Tony slumped down on to Bruce’s bed, stealing his pillow without remorse. “Did you want to… carry on?” Bruce said sheepishly, blushing a little once more.

“Nah. Let’s just talk, shall we?” Tony suggested, beckoning Bruce to lie down next to him. Bruce complied, and Tony soon found a comfortable position, throwing an arm across Bruce’s torso and resting his head in the crook of the other boy’s neck. Bruce sniggered a little.

“Comfy, Stark?” He grinned, and Tony hummed in approval.

“Incredibly so, thank you.”

“You’re really heavy, you know that?” Tony shrugged awkwardly and didn’t make an effort to move. “What do you want to talk about then?”

Tony paused to think for a few seconds, then snorted. “I think if two people have ran out of things to talk about after dating for barely a day, there is a serious problem with their relationship.”

“Shut up, Stark. Why don’t you tell me about you? Like, actually tell me. Because you talk about yourself all the time, but you don’t really seem to say that much.”

“Maybe there’s just not much to say.” Tony replied carefully. He liked Bruce, he really did, and he knew that if anyone was going to be able to empathise with his home life, it would be Bruce, but he just wasn’t ready to open up to anyone to that extent, not yet, not even to him.

“Childhood friends? Childhood enemies? Childhood sweethearts?” At this, Tony snorted. “Oh, you’ve got to tell me that story now.” Bruce said quickly, a mischievous look on his face. “It’s good, isn’t it? First kiss. Go go go.”

Tony laughed. “Not particularly. If you really have to know, and you promise to not get really jealous and go punch a wall or something… It was Pepper.”

“Wait, as in…” Bruce said, surprised. “I didn’t realise you guys had known each other for that long.”

“Since birth, basically. She was my best friend growing up, and then we got to that age, you know, ten or eleven, and she had made me watch all these god awful, soppy romantic comedies that aren’t even remotely comedic and we thought we’d see what it was like.” Tony cringed at the memory. “It was, as you might imagine, not quite how the movies portray it to be, not between two uncoordinated ten year olds, at least.”

Bruce laughed. “So it was not the romantic, sweeping her off her feet gesture that she expected?” He joked. “Oh well, at least she learned early that you are crap at romance.”

“Oh wow Banner, I am mortally wounded by your cruel, cruel words.” Tony deadpanned, and Bruce laughed even harder. “I’m serious! I’ll be surprised if I survive the night after that brutal attack on my ego.”

“Shut up, you idiot, and carry on with the story.” Bruce said, ignoring his sarcasm.

“Okay, so anyway. Me and Pepper held hands in the corridors and exchanged terrible handmade Valentine’s cards every February, covered in kisses and pronouncing that our hearts will belong to each other always but in less well thought out words, and then we grew up. She was the most popular girl in our middle school, and everyone only pretended to like me because my father was rich and powerful, and they were scared to not pretend, you know? But she could do better. She could find someone who treated her as she deserved to be treated, and eventually, she did, and we both moved on. The end.” Tony finished. More and more bitterness had crept into his voice as the tale went on. He didn’t fail to notice the shocked look on Bruce’s face.

“What?” He said, annoyed. “You’re not going to tell me you’re jealous now, are you?”

Bruce frowned. “I’m not jealous, I’m just… You guys had sex literally two weeks ago. You can hardly say you moved on.”

“We’re not dating anymore.” Tony said firmly. “Maybe at one point in my life, I wanted that, but ten year old Tony Stark didn’t understand the differences between me and Pepper, the little things that made us totally unsuitable. Sure, she’s still great fun for the odd night, but she knows that’s all it is- no strings attached fun. Pepper’s just a friend now, and that’s for the best.”

Although Bruce denied that he was jealous, there was tension in his body that wasn’t there before. Tony doubted that telling this story was a good idea, but Bruce had insisted. “Does she see it like that?” He murmured.

“Of course she does!” Tony said, confused. “How else would she see it? We both knew it wasn’t serious.”

“Do you know that? I mean, do you think she’d be upset, if she knew about us?”

Tony thought about that for a few seconds. He wanted to say no instantly, but something in his head was nagging him that maybe that wasn’t entirely true. He considered whether he’d be upset, even just a little bit, if she got a steady, serious boyfriend, and knew deep down, despite Bruce, and how happy he was with him, what the true answer would be. He nodded slightly. “But I mean… We’ve never been exclusive. What are you saying? That we should tell her about us, to make sure she’s okay with it?” Tony asked, his tone mocking and slightly incredulous.

Bruce shrugged. “Maybe.”

Tony sat up quickly, and Bruce frowned, propping himself up too. “I was kidding!” Tony said hotly. “We can’t tell Pepper about this! She’d freak! Not to mention, secret boyfriends, remember?”

“Tony, you’re being naïve if you think that no-one is ever going to find out.” Bruce said flatly. “And yeah, keeping it quiet until absolutely necessary is the best way forward, but with the history between you and Pepper? Don’t you think it’s going to hurt her more if she is the last person to know? You trust her, right?”

Tony nodded. “She was the first person to find out about the… situation… with my dad. She knows what would happen if he found out.”

“Then you know she’s not going to tell a soul. Maybe it’s for the better.” Bruce said gently. Tony could see where he was coming from, but he still wasn’t quite sure it was a good idea. “Look, Tony. You’re going to have to tell her at some point. Because the chances are, be it in two days or two months, at some point, she is going to come knocking on our door for some ‘no strings attached fun’, as you put it, and I sincerely hope that you’d tell her you’re not interested. Anything you say then won’t be withholding the truth, it’ll be outright lying to her, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t think that’s fair.”

Tony groaned. “Seriously? You seriously want me to tell my ex-girlfriend that I am not 100% straight and that you and I are together?”

Bruce nodded coolly. “I’ll even come with you, if you want. For emotional support.” He offered, a grin playing on his lips.

Tony pouted playfully. “Thanks, but no thanks, Banner. I know from past experience that she has extremely good aim when throwing small to medium sized objects, and I’m nice enough to protect you from that.”

Tony was planning to tell Bruce about Loki that night, but the moment never felt right. Despite his pleading and bargaining to stay on Bruce’s bed, Tony was still turfed on to the floor when it was time for them to sleep, with Bruce arguing that Tony would just steal the duvet and possibly kick him in the middle of the night. Tony relented eventually and returned to his own bed, sighing.

*

Lessons were winding down as the last week of school came slowly to a close. The teachers couldn’t be bothered to teach, and the students definitely couldn’t be bothered to study and Tony had got to the point where he believed that repeatedly smashing his head against a wall would be preferable to being forced to listen to Clint go on about his stupid date for one more second. It was a relief to everyone when he finally left them on Friday, having asked every single person on the third floor their opinion on which tie better matched his shirt.

“Right. Thank God he’s gone.” Tony grimaced. “If I hear one more story about how Natasha fucking Romanoff is the most perfect woman on Earth, I will empty the contents of my stomach into Barton’s shoes.”

Everyone was camping out in Tony and Bruce’s room, since they had been ejected from their usual hide out of Steve and Clint’s when the latter started stressing out. Tony marvelled at how relaxed Bruce looked; he wasn’t even working or reading or being boring- he was actually partaking in the conversation. If Steve was confused by his behaviour, he hid it well, and Thor just grinned widely, looking undeservedly proud of himself.

“Did you find out which movie he picked in the end?” Tony asked Steve, an idea suddenly planting in his head. “The romance or the action movie?”

“Action.” Steve replied instantly. “At quarter past eight.”

Tony checked the clock on his phone quickly. Seven forty five. “Anyone else up for it?” He smirked, a mischievous look on his face. “I’m a great shot with popcorn.”

“He’s going to kill you.” Bruce warned.

“No, Banner. He’s going to kill _us_.” Tony beamed, as if positively elated by the prospect. “Come on Steve, Thor, you’re in, right?”

Thor nodded enthusiastically without hesitation, but Steve paused. “Do you really think this is a good idea? I mean, you know how long he’s been trying to get a date with Natasha... And I’m the one that is going to have to put up with his bitching and whining after.”

“And this is discouraging me in what way exactly?” Tony said, and Thor laughed deeply. “Come off it, Steve, you think he’d even pause for breath if it was your date we were crashing?”

Steve contemplated this for a second, then sighed. “Fine, what the hell, I’ll come. But I’m making you first in line when Clint comes looking for someone to punch in the face.”

“Deal. I’ll call for a car.”

The four of them arrived at the movie theatre just in time to sneak in behind Clint and Natasha and sit a few rows behind without being spotted. Tony pulled a face at the uncomfortably sticky floor and Bruce saw his expression and tried to stifle a giggle. “But seriously,” Tony hissed under his breath, “Do they never think to clean these places? You can hear your shoes peeling off the floor.”

“Tony, shut up.” Bruce whispered back, trying to keep quiet. They sat down, Bruce on one side of Tony and Thor on the other, and Steve on the other side of him. “No, okay, these seats are damp. This place is disgusting.”

Tony sniggered. “The things I do just to piss off my friends… It’s unbelievable.” Thor leant over and grabbed a handful of popcorn, shoving it in his mouth messily, with most of the pieces ending up on the floor. “Thor, if you keep that up, there’s not going to be any left for the actual movie.” Tony warned under his breath, conscious that Clint was sat mere metres away. Thor shrugged in apology, unable to talk through a mouthful of corn.

The film started, eventually, and Tony managed to resist the temptation to start flicking pieces at Clint for about ten minutes before giving in, but he hit the back of his chair, only a couple of inches too low. “Damn it.” He muttered. He tried again and this time succeeded in hitting Barton on the back, but it didn’t seem like he even noticed.

“Tony, allow me to attempt it!” Thor whispered, and Tony rolled his eyes; Thor’s whispering was about the volume of any normal person’s speech. His shot was more on target and Clint’s head cocked slightly in surprise as the popcorn made contact. “Maybe we should all throw at the same time!” He suggested. Tony grinned and took a handful before passing the bag over to Bruce, who tutted ever so slightly before taking some for himself. Steve still looked unsure about it- understandably, since he had to share a room with Clint and he was prone to dramatic sulking, but eventually conceded.

“On three?” Tony said quietly, and everyone nodded. “One, two… Three!” A small cascade of popcorn kernels rained down over Clint and Natasha, and he turned around furiously.

“Seriously, you guys?” He hissed as the other people in the theatre shushed them, irritated. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“We just fancied a trip out, that’s all.” Steve said innocently, deciding to play the game at the last minute. “Last day of school and all that shit.”

Bruce sniggered a little, and Clint turned on him. “Shut the fuck up, Banner. What are you even doing here? You can all fuck off back to school and leave me alone!”

“I invited him.” Tony said coolly. “And I think we’re going to stay and enjoy the movie, actually.”

Natasha’s head whipped around at the sound of Tony’s voice. “Stark, I don’t know what you are playing at, but you are ruining this for not only us but for everyone else in this cinema. If you are going to stay, kindly shut the fuck up and leave us alone. And if one more piece of popcorn comes anywhere near us, I will have no hesitations in breaking your face, do you understand me?”

Tony held up his hands in mock defeat. “Okay, okay, deal. Jesus.” He conceded. He could hear Bruce’s muffled giggles coming from next to him, and he kicked him awkwardly in retaliation, which only served to make Bruce giggle more. “Shut it, Banner, or I swear to God, I will withhold your Christmas present.”

“Wait, you got me a- a Christmas present?” Bruce said, so surprised that his voice slipped out of whispering. Steve looked over in surprise and Tony shushed him indignantly.

“Of course I got you a fucking Christmas present, you idiot.” Tony tutted, rolling his eyes. “What were you expecting? A mouldy banana peel and an old sock?”

“Well, um, thanks?” Bruce muttered awkwardly. “But do you think it’s best if we finish this conversation later? I think we are getting glares.”

Tony glanced to his right, where Steve was eyeing at him with a confused expression plastered across his face, and even the usually oblivious Thor’s wide beam had contorted into a look of bewilderment. Tony sighed. “Good point.”

*

“So what was that all about?” Steve asked Tony pointedly once the film had finished. Bruce and Thor had decided to use the bathroom before they left, and Tony’s hopes of getting back to school without an interrogation from Rogers were shattered.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “We’re kind of friends.” He said, being intentionally vague to try to discourage further questions. Unfortunately for him, Steve isn’t the best at picking up subtlety, and demanded more answers.

“Since when? Tony, he’s not… He’s not like us. Look, I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but it’s true. I mean, he’s on a scholarship. He’s not from the same world as us, Tony.”

“He’s coming to mine for Christmas.” Tony blurted, unable to help himself. Steve might not exactly approve of his friendship with Bruce, but he wasn’t the kind of guy to start spreading it around, and it felt good for Tony to get it off his chest. He didn’t know why that one fact felt like it was weighing him down so badly, but it was a relief none the less.

“Is that a good idea? I mean, with Howard, and all…”

Tony shrugged, although this was a concern he’d had himself, too. “He said it was fine, and not even in a ‘Why Are You Forcing Me To Do This?’ kind of way. I mean, he approved Bruce’s scholarship application in the first place; he probably thinks he’s a good influence on me or something.” Steve snorted with laughter, but his retort was cut back by the eventual emergence of Bruce and Thor from the bathroom.

The drive home passed mainly in silence, interrupted only by a text message from Clint telling Steve that under no circumstances was he to attempt to enter their room until 11.30pm at the earliest. “So much for the 10pm curfew.” Steve complained. “Although I’m pretty sure we’ve broken that already.”

“You can sleep with me, Steve!” Thor declared, and scowled at them when the three boys giggled helplessly under their breaths. “Luke has already returned home for the Yuletide festivities, so you can have his bed, if you wish!”

“You know what, Thor? I think I’m gonna take you up on that offer.” Steve said seriously. Tony too thought that was probably wise, since however funny it would be, leaving Steve alone to deal with Clint’s annoyance at the popcorn incident would be harsh even in his standards.

Bruce yawned widely as they stepped into their room, which made Tony feel tired as well. “Think I’m going to call it a night.” He stifled a yawn of his own, changing quickly out of his clothes and wriggling under the duvet.

“Night, Tony.” Bruce replied as he did the same, and they both flicked out their lights almost simultaneously.

But try as he might, Tony couldn’t get to sleep. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable and beating his pillow into a different shape, but to no avail. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, he counted, feeling like an idiot since he hadn’t done this since about third grade. Four sheep, five sheep, six sheep.

“Tony? You still awake?” Bruce whispered across to him about half an hour later.

“Mhmm.” Tony mumbled in reply. He’d lost count of his sheep long ago and had resorted to staring up at the blackness of the ceiling unblinkingly, in an attempt to make his eyes tired. “Who decided that counting sheep was a good technique to fall asleep?” He asked the other boy randomly. Because it really doesn’t work. And for that matter, who the hell decided that the plural of sheep should be sheep? I mean, come on. That defies all reasonable logic. What’s wrong with sheeps?”

“It doesn’t sound right.”

“Yeah, but only because you are so used to people saying ‘sheep’.” Tony argued.

There was a brief silence as Tony’s argument sank in, then Bruce started laughing, trying to muffle the sound as to not wake the entire floor. “It’s an interesting question, Tony.” He whispered through the dark. “Is that why you are still awake? Contemplating the intricacies of the disaster we call the English language?”

“I don’t think so, somehow.” Tony replied jokingly. “It just occurred to me. And incidentally, four hundred and ninety one sheep or sheeps or whatever it is later and I still haven’t actually fallen asleep. I guess someone gets to have lamb for dinner tonight.”

“They could shear off all the wool and use it to make a jumper?” Bruce suggested, playing along. “It’s the more ‘suitable for vegetarians’ version.”

“Oh, I told Howard, by the way.” Tony rolled onto his side so he was facing Bruce’s half of the room. “About you being a vegetarian. He said it’s cool and he’ll make sure there’s something in the house that isn’t turkey.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” Bruce said, obviously surprised by Tony’s thoughtfulness. “You really didn’t have to do that, though. I do eat meat, I just-”

“You try not to, if you can avoid it.” Tony supplied helpfully. “I’ve known you three months and I’ve never seen you eat a piece of meat or anything containing any kind of meat product. And in this situation, it is very avoidable, simply by telling my father that you are a vegetarian. It’s not a problem.”

“My dad doesn’t agree.” Bruce said quietly, and Tony froze. If there was one thing he had noticed about Bruce over the past few months, it was that he rarely opened up about his family situation. Bruce, oblivious to Tony’s sudden increase in attentiveness, continued. “It’s weak, apparently, not eating meat. It’s fighting nature, fighting what it is to be human, to be a real man.” The words were laced with anger and spite, all the more prominent through their whispers and the otherwise silent corridor. “So I don’t kick up a fuss at home. It’s easier that way, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Tony murmured under his breath. There was a long silence, and Tony presumed that Bruce had fallen asleep. Having resigned himself to yet another sleepless night, or near enough, he stared into the blackness, buried in his own thoughts.

“What if he doesn’t like me?”

The voice, almost half an hour later, made Tony jump. “What if who doesn’t like you?” Tony asked, confused, his own head occupied with how best to fend off ‘in a relationship with Natasha Romanoff’ Barton.

“Howard.” Bruce explained, worry audible in his voice. “What if he... disapproves?”

Tony tutted. “What do you think he’s going to do? Get the shotgun out because he thinks you are an unsuitable friend?”  He rolled his eyes, more to himself than anyone else- not that Bruce could see him anyway.

“This is Howard Stark we’re talking about. If he needed a weapon, I think he could probably do better than a shotgun.” Bruce returned sarcastically. “And you know what I mean. Aren’t you afraid that I am unsuitable, because, well, I don’t, um…”

“You’re not rolling around in piles of unnecessary cash and you don’t have a different sports car for every day of the week?” Tony guessed, chuckling to himself. “Bruce, who exactly do you think it is that pays your tuition fees? My father organises, pays for and selects the students for the scholarship programme here. He will be over the fucking moon that I am friends with you. Normally, the only interaction I get with scholarship kids is the daily trip to the filthiest bathroom to perform the ritual of flushing their heads down the toilet.”

Bruce chose to ignore that last comment. “So you think I’ll be okay? He won’t throw me out for being a peasant?”

“He won’t throw you out for being a peasant.” Tony promised.

“Good. And incidentally, while I am aware that I have no right to be pissed about things you did before we met, just so you know, if you ever flush anyone’s head down a toilet again, we are over to the power of a million.”

“No more heads down toilets.” Tony said, nodding. “Got it. Good night, Bruce.”

“Good night, Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://alpha-lahey.tumblr.com).
> 
> It's just occurred to me how long ago this was written. I vividly remember writing bits of this under the table in a really boring History lesson well over a year ago. Weird. Also, the abundance of the word peasant. Remember when that was a thing? Good times.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't know if this chapter was gonna go up today because I'm currently hanging at a Teen Wolf convention (I hugged Daniel Sharman today. It was awesome.), but I did! Yay!

The relatively short trip to Tony’s house in central Manhattan went smoothly, even if Bruce stared in disbelief when he caught sight of the helicopter. “Seriously?” He’d said, blinking at it as they approached the field, which was doubling once more as a helipad. “You have your own helicopter? You’re crazy.”

“Only way to travel, Brucey. Much faster than a car.” Tony had replied, grinning broadly. “And you get a great view of the city. You’ll love it, I promise.”

He was right of course; it felt like they had barely left school when they were touching down on the roof of Stark Tower, the New York home of both Tony Stark and Stark Industries. Bruce wrung his hands anxiously, a tic that Tony had noticed over the past few months, as the pilot picked up their bags and took them inside.

“Ready?” Tony said, shooting Bruce a reassuring smile. Bruce nodded, but Tony knew he was nervous, and to be perfectly honest, Tony was as well. Not, however, because he thought that Howard wouldn’t like Bruce- Tony was fairly confident that he would- but because he wasn’t used to letting people in to his private life like this. He didn’t have what one would exactly call a normal childhood, and while Howard wasn’t a bad father, the way they acted around each other showed the tension between them that had existed since Tony’s mom died when he was seven. He didn’t want people’s pity, or concern, or help, and over the years, he steadily worked out that the easiest way to avoid this was to not let people know that there was a problem in the first place.

If anyone was ever going to understand his home life, Tony figured it would be Bruce, who had had, from what Tony had worked out, an even more fucked up upbringing than he had. And regardless of impeding daddy issues, Tony was determined to make this Christmas the best one Bruce had ever had.

Tony led Bruce down the stairs into the top floor lounge of the tower, the automatic doors spinning open to reveal the large living space, the mid-morning sunlight streaming through the full length window making up one of the walls. “Woah.” Bruce murmured, looking around the extravagant room. “Tell me the entire building isn’t like this? Because that is just criminal.”

Tony shook his head quickly. “Bedrooms are the next floor down, and there’s a few converted into games rooms from when I was a kid, and the floor below that has the kitchen and a bathroom and stuff. Below that, there’s ten floors of research and development labs, and then offices down to the ground floor. This place is mainly for Howard’s work. Normally, we’d go to the Malibu house for Christmas but he’s in the middle of something or other, so we’re stuck here until the 28th.” Tony stopped talking abruptly, realising he probably sounded like a pretentious douchebag. “Um, do you want me to show you your room?” He diverted the conversation quickly into safer territory.

“My room?” Bruce said, raising his eyebrows. “Is there some enforced separate bedroom law here?”

“No, you are quite welcome in my room if you wish.” Tony said slowly, his trademark smirk comfortably back on his face. “It’s just, there’s only one bed in there… And I’ve been known to be a terrible duvet hog.” Bruce snorted, and Tony pushed open the door to his room.

Bruce eyed the aforementioned bed dubiously. “You know what, Tony? I think there’s probably room for both of us on there. As well as Steve and Thor and Clint, and Natasha, and Pepper. Potentially the entire population of a small European country, but that might be a bit of a squeeze.” Bruce pored over Tony’s collection of albums and films, making appreciative noises at his tastes. This was reason number two why he didn’t usually like people in his own space; he didn’t want people making judgements on him based upon the things that he liked. But seeing as Bruce had been invading his personal space to a certain extent for many weeks now, he figured that this point was probably moot.

“Ready to meet the father?” Tony said quietly as he heard footsteps in the corridor outside. He grabbed Bruce’s hand and gave it a quick, tight squeeze before dropping it abruptly as there was a sharp knock on the door, and it swung open. “Hey, Howard.” He breezed easily as his father appeared in the doorway.

“Good day, Anthony.” He said briskly, glancing from Tony to Bruce. “And you must be Bruce Banner.”

“Yes, sir.” He stammered nervously.

“Call me Howard, please.” Tony recognised the excessively bright tone of Howard’s voice as his ‘public appearances’ voice, and couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the fact that even within his own home, he was so dedicated to presenting his image. Bruce nodded, not managing to meet Howard’s eye properly. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Bruce, but I must get back to work; we’ll have to have a good talk later. Anthony, I trust you can find a way to keep the two of you entertained for the afternoon without disturbing me?”

Tony sniggered slightly, and Bruce shot him a warning look. “We could decorate the tree?” He suggested, heeding Bruce’s pointed glare. Howard nodded his approval and left the room, already pulling his top of the range Stark Industries phone from his pocket to yell at some poor, inferior employee. Bruce raised his eyebrows and Tony mouthed 'I know, right?', but waited until Howard was well out of earshot before saying anything.

“Well, he's...” Bruce started, then paused to find a suitable word.

“A dick?” Tony supplied helpfully, and Bruce sniggered.

“I was gonna go for interesting, but yeah, maybe your word works too.” Bruce grinned, unable to help himself. “I just got treated like press, didn't I?” The way Bruce was laughing made Tony think that his father wasn't the one who put on a false image in public.

“He treats everyone like press, don't take it personally.” Tony said bitterly, following his father out the door. He saw Bruce's face contort slightly, and wondered randomly how many times this holiday he would awkwardly change the conversation away from his private life. “Are you ready for the Stark family tradition of Christmas tree decorating?” He joked brightly. “There are few stringent rules though. Such as you just can't do this sober else you'll spend the entire time wondering exact what it is that went wrong with your life.”

“I'm pretty sure the main thing that went wrong with my life was meeting you, Stark.” Bruce joked, following him back upstairs to the main lounge where the colossal tree was standing, surrounded by several large cardboard boxes filled with various strings of lights and baubles. “But in all seriousness, I'm going to politely decline the drink, thank you, on account of the fact that I don’t take much pleasure in imbibing toxic substances, remember?”

“Oh yeah, because you're a teetotal, vegetarian sixteen year old.” Tony snorted, heading over to the bar and grabbing two glasses. After half filling one with vodka, he waved the soda stream at Bruce. “What about a Pepsi? Can you handle that, or do you need me to water it down a little because it's too strong for your sensitive nature?”

“Do you have diet?” Bruce asked seriously, then cracked up at the look on Tony's face. “Joking, Tony. Pepsi would be great, thanks. Although I must say, I would have always had you pegged as a Coca-Cola kind of guy.”

“Pepsi pay higher for the endorsement. The fact that the Starks only drink Pepsi is apparently a large part of their marketing strategy.”

“You get paid to drink Pepsi over Coke?” Bruce raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You really do live in a completely different world. Jesus...” He shook his head slightly, frowning. “Is that even legal?”

“Probably not, but people tend to turn a blind eye when the matter at hand concerns two enormous, multi-national corporations. You are right, though.” He said, passing Bruce’s drink over the bar before drinking deeply from his own glass and wincing slightly. “I do prefer Coke. Just for the record, you know.”

Bruce nodded absently, and Tony collapsed onto the couch, tilting his head to indicate for the other boy to join him. He stared at the empty tree without really seeing it, conscious of both the presence of his boyfriend and the slightly uncomfortable silence between them. Having Bruce in his house was weird, Tony decided, and not just because he was paranoid that his father would realise that there was something more than friendship between them. The gap between their lifestyles was emphasised when Tony was on his home turf, completely comfortable, whereas Bruce was freaking out, like a fish out of water.

“Tony? Are you okay?” Bruce nudged him gently, looking concerned. “You seem a bit… off. Is something wrong?” Tony took a long drink from his glass, almost emptying it; he didn’t miss the small flicker of something crossing Bruce’s eyes, but he still couldn’t work out exactly what it was.

“No…” He said absently, his thoughts still elsewhere. “No, I’m fine.” Bruce looked at it oddly, and Tony snapped out of his zone-out and smiled at his boyfriend. “I’m fine. Just, you know… It’s weird, having someone else here for Christmas. Normally I just sit in my room while Howard works all the way through the holiday, which is basically the most depressing way to spend a holiday ever.”

“Well, it’s weird to be here too.” Bruce smiled softly, looking at him sympathetically. “My dad usually leaves me at home while he goes out to get pissed with his friends. Usually without any heating, because he’d rather pay for alcohol than pay the bills.”

Tony blinked. “Well, don’t we have fucked up home lives? It’s a wonder we both turned out so normal.” He said sarcastically, jumping up from the couch and pulling Bruce up with him. “Now, that’s enough moping around- there are decorations to be hung!”

Tony went to dig out the Christmas box from one of their many hiding places, whistling a festive tune as he went, determined to make this holiday enjoyable for both of them. Grabbing a piece of tinsel, he threw it over Bruce’s shoulders and used it to pull him closer, a shit-eating grin on his face. When they were almost nose to nose, Tony tried to close the gap only to be greeted with Bruce ducking out of the way. “Is that wise?” He hissed, glancing around the room nervously. “Don’t you have security tapes or something?”

“JARVIS, wipe top floor footage from the last thirty seconds.”

“Already done sir, with other footage looped back to fill the gap. And can I say, welcome home, sir.”

“Thanks, J. I’d say it’s nice to be back, but it’s really not. JARVIS, this is my good friend, Bruce Banner. Bruce, this,” he said proudly, gesturing randomly up at the ceiling, “is JARVIS.”

Bruce looked from his surroundings to Tony, trying to take in the absurdity of the disembodied voice. “A- A robot?” He guessed.

“Artificial Intelligence, yeah. Programmed him the summer before I started at Erskine.”

“That’s… Wait. You programmed him? But you must have only been, what, fourteen?” Tony nodded, grinning. JARVIS was just about the thing he was most proud of, and the impressed look on Bruce’s face satisfied him enormously. “That’s… Seriously, Tony, that is cool.”

“Anyway, he’s particularly good at overwriting security tapes.” Tony said smugly, raising a single eyebrow suggestively. Bruce didn’t need a second hint, closing the space between them without a second’s deliberation.

A few minutes later, when the two of them had finished half-heartedly smoothing the crumples out of their shirts and attempting to make their hair lie flat once more, they eventually got around to actually laying some lengths of tinsel over the fir boughs. “Aren’t you supposed to put the lights on first?” Bruce said, pursing his lips as he surveyed the messily arranged decorations.

“But then they get buried under everything else!” Tony argued, thinking personally that the tree looked pretty damn fantastic. And by pretty damn fantastic, he meant tacky and rubbish, but hey, it’s a Christmas tree- that’s kind of the point. “Anyway, we’re not redoing any of this now, Bruce. It looks fine. Come on, give me a hand. These wires keep getting stuck.”

Bruce, as the logical, patient one of the pair, laid the length of light bulbs across the room from wall to wall, working out all of the knots and tangles as he went, and accidentally giving Tony a fantastic view of his ass. “When you said give me a hand…” Bruce questioned, looking up at Tony with a grin on his face as he realised what the other boy was doing (or not doing, as the case may be). “Well, will you give me a hand actually putting them on the tree? Just stand on the other side and when I pass you the bundle of wire, all you have to do is pass it back to me, okay?”

“Banner, I have one of the highest IQs out of people my age in the world. I think I can just about handle decorating a tree.” Tony said, sniffing acting as though he was offended by Bruce’s implication.

“Famous last words.” Bruce murmured quietly, smiling slightly as he finished wrapping the lights into a manageable bundle. “Try not to get overly stressed if this fucks up in any kind of way, Tony.” He chided, smirking as he passed the lights over.

“What can even go wrong, Bruce? You seriously underestimate my ability to do simple tasks.”

“Rogers told me that you don’t do your own laundry.” Bruce said pointedly, his face obscured by the branches of the tree. “That shows either a fundamental inability to perform everyday tasks, or a level of pretentiousness and upper class snobbery that even I didn’t imagine you possessed.” Tony’s cheeks tinted red a little, and he stammered in his haste to defend himself, but then he heard Bruce laugh from the other side, and Tony allowed a smile to break across his face.

They did, as a matter of fact, manage to line the tree with ridiculously bright, flashing lights without serious injury or major tantrums, which was an impressive feat really, as any stressed family at Christmas time would be able to tell you. Tony handed Bruce the star to put at the top, and after the two of them engineered a carefully structured mountain of furniture to enable Bruce to reach the top branch, they stepped back and admired their handiwork.

“That looks awesome.” Tony said decisively. “You know, it’s a testament to just how interesting you are, Bruce, that I actually finished decorating the Christmas tree with only one, though admittedly large, drink. Nice job.”

“Well, thank you for that glowing commendation, Tony. I will cherish it forever.” Bruce replied drily.

“Too right you will.” Tony grinned in return. “So am I okay to put your presents under the tree now, or do I actually have to wait until the middle of the night on the 24th and do the whole ‘But Santa is real!’ thing?”

Bruce’s mouth fell open in horror. “You… You mean Santa Claus isn’t real?” He said, barely holding back the giggles, and Tony slapped him lightly around the head. “No, I don’t care, you can put them under whenever.”

“Good, because the tree looks sad when it doesn’t have any presents to look after. I’ll be back up in ten minutes- find something to entertain yourself while I’m gone.” Tony said seriously, before hurrying downstairs to his room, where he had had the presents he ordered for Bruce stashed surreptitiously in an empty cupboard.

He tried not to think too much about whether Bruce would like what he had decided to buy him in the end- it hadn’t been an easy decision. Should he have got something personal and small, or would that have made him look cheap? Or should he have gone for something big and expensive, even though it might make Bruce think he was just flashing his money around instead of thinking of something intimate? Tony hated gift shopping.

Hoping that in the end, he had made the right call, he quickly wrapped the gifts and carried them upstairs, placing them under the tree. Bruce raised an eyebrow at the large box before turning his inquisitive gaze to a small envelope balanced precariously on top.

Bruce hummed, his eyes twinkling at Tony as he emerged from under the freshly decorated tree. “Intriguing.” He said, peering at the two packages. “I don’t know which one I want to open more.”

Tony chuckled. “Probably the big one. The little one is kind of… I don’t know if you’ll like it. Or if you’ll even want it, to be honest.”

“If I don’t like and/or want it, I’ll let you know and you can return it, deal?”

Tony nodded, despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly returnable. “Deal.” He agreed, now even more nervous than before. “So where’s my present?” He said brightly. “Too big to fit under the tree? Or am I hoping for too much?”

Bruce smacked his arm and Tony yelped. “Jesus, I was joking! That hurt.”

“I barely tapped you.” Bruce tutted impatiently. “Under all that bravado and egotistical bullshit, you’re really just a huge wimp, aren’t you?” He teased.

“Oh yeah, I cry myself to sleep every fucking night because life is just so hard.”

“I know, I can hear you. It stops me getting to sleep.”

“Yeah, real funny, Bruce.” And then Tony felt more than a little uncomfortable about the pitying look being sent his way by the other boy, and he hastened to defend himself. “What? I have never cried myself to sleep! Don’t look at me like that!”

Bruce jumped slightly, as if he had only then realised what he was doing. “Looking at you like what? I’m not looking at you like anything.” He said quickly, blushing a little and looking away. Tony didn’t say anything in return, instead letting the pointed silence say everything he needed to.

Bruce bit his lip. “How do I- Do you know that you snore?”

“I snore? Seriously? Well, that’s… That’s not the point!” Tony protested weakly.

“I’m getting to the point.” Bruce stated exasperatedly. “When I wake up before you or go to sleep after you do, you’re always snoring.” Tony raised his eyebrows, about to interrupt to once again reassert the pointlessness of this train of thought, but Bruce continued before he had the opportunity. “I haven’t heard you snoring since we started this thing. You might not be crying yourself to sleep every night, but you’re definitely not sleeping properly. Why didn’t you just tell me that something was wrong, Tony?”

Tony was left speechless. He had spent so much time focussing on not letting his mask slip in front of Bruce, afraid that the other boy would think he didn’t want what they had, that it was almost inevitable that in the end, it would be his silence that would give him away. “Who the fuck are you, Sherlock Holmes?” Tony grumbled, sinking down on to the couch. “Look, you’ve just got the wrong idea, okay? I’m not- I don’t- I’m happy with whatever it is that you want to call us. Like, really happy. And that’s my problem. Because when- if- Howard finds out, he’ll stop me seeing you. It’ll be one more thing he can use to control me and that scares the shit out of me. Knowing that I could- that I could lose you.” Tony looked down at the floor between his feet, trying to blink the stupid tears away that were threatening to fall. Bruce sat down beside him and gently tugged him closer, letting Tony’s head fall on his shoulder. “You’re making me feel like a kid.” Tony complained, but only half-heartedly. Bruce was warm and felt familiar, safe; deep down, it was just what Tony needed.

“And you said you weren’t a wimp.” Bruce joked, placing an arm around Tony and holding him until he had calmed down. “Tony, just know this. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care how many people stand in my way, or try to stop me, or tell me no. I’m going to be there for as long as you want me around. I promise.”

Tony snorted, a weak smirk returning to his face. “When did my life turn into a shitty rom com and why didn’t anyone tell me? J, can you delete everything from the data banks that contains footage of Bruce and me looking like anything other than platonic bros?”

“Already done, sir,” replied the cool automated voice. “What would you like it replaced with?”

Tony paused for a fraction of a second before flicking on the TV. Scooting over to the opposite side of the couch from Bruce, they silently watched some fairly average action movie for about ten seconds until JARVIS confirmed that the data replacement had been successful. “I would also like to take the liberty to inform you that the elder Mr Stark is awaiting your presence downstairs in order to eat, sir.”

“Okay, thanks JARVIS.”

*

Dinner was, well, as dinner usually was, although having Bruce there added an extra dimension of awkward, which was not wholly a welcome addition. Tony was paranoid that Howard was going to realise than they were more than ‘just friends’, and so spent the whole time on tenterhooks, being so cautious about how he acted around Bruce that they barely even spoke. Howard apparently didn’t notice anything odd though, as he spent most of the meal interrogating his son on how school was, and ignoring Bruce entirely.

“Your grades?” He said briskly, as soon as the three of them sat down. “I heard from several of your professors that you are no longer achieving the highest marks amongst your peers.” Bruce’s cheeks flushed red and Tony squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. He tried to explain, but Howard cut him off, sending him a look that just dared him to try and interrupt again. “I don’t need to hear whatever reasons you’ve rehearsed, Anthony. I just want you to promise that you will make an effort to ensure that your work is of an adequate standard for the rest of the year.”

Tony nodded tightly, gritting his teeth. Bruce looked embarrassed and more than a little guilty, and Tony tried to send him a quick smile that assured him that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t until after their dinner plates had been cleared away that Howard turned on Bruce.

“So… It’s Banner, isn’t it? Bruce Banner?”

Bruce bit his lip and glanced at Tony, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And you are the boy that got assigned to Anthony’s room? From the scholarship program?” He confirmed, obvious in his tone that the questions didn’t require any confirmation of Bruce’s part. “Yes, Nick has been keeping me informed about your progress.”

Bruce swallowed, and Howard cracked a rare smile. “Apparently, you’ve somehow managed to navigate school life and make friends with this idiot,” he said, indicating towards his son, “while still achieving admirable grades and creating few incidents, shall we say. Perhaps you could teach Tony a thing or two.”

Tony huffed, clearly affronted, while Bruce wasn’t sure what to say, if he was even required to say anything at all, as he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and offend either of the Starks. Fortunately, Howard soon excused himself, claiming that he still had work to do, and that he hoped Bruce would enjoy his stay. Both Tony and Bruce visibly relaxed once he had left the room.

“He’s… intense.” Bruce remarked casually. He gathered up the dishes still left on the table and stacked them neatly, while Tony looked on, bemused.

“You kind of get used to it. And you don’t have to do that, Bruce, really.”

Bruce picked up the dishes anyway, smirking. “Force of habit. Just because we may not be as privileged as some doesn’t mean we like to live in a pig sty, and we don’t have someone to do the washing up for us. Now, where the fuck is your kitchen?”

Tony navigated the way to the kitchen, having been guilt tripped into helping Bruce clear the table, but put his foot down at actually washing the stuff up. “Come off it, Bruce, I haven’t even given you the full tour yet!”

Bruce rolled his eyes, but allowed Tony to drag him from room to room, as Tony fed him information about random things in each one. He knew that Bruce cared just as much about the price of the Persian rug on the floor of the third guest bedroom as he did, and therefore decided to cut the tour short to show Bruce what he viewed as the only room worth spending any time in, other than his bedroom and potentially the kitchen.

Tony pressed the tip of his index finger to a small pad on the wall, as Bruce looked on in bemusement. “Fingerprint identification? Gee, I’m surprised you resisted the urge to go the full nine yards and have a retina scanner or something.”

“Security breach. Unauthorised personnel attempting entry. Security breach.” JARVIS’ cool voice echoed around the small corridor as Tony opened the door and Bruce followed him inside.

“Cool it J, it’s just Bruce. He’s allowed in.” Tony said swiftly, and the alert system turned itself off. “Howard said that I didn’t need anything more extravagant than a finger pad. Because it’s not like I’m making dangerous chemical weaponry or anything, jeez.”

“The look on your face is causing me some concern.”

“Besides, I don’t need a high level security system in here. I have my own arrangements, so to speak.” It was about then that Bruce noticed the huge glass tank running almost the entire length of one of the walls. “Bruce, meet Happy.”

Bruce blinked at the seven metre long, sleeping serpent behind the glass. “Um, Tony? Is he- she- er, it poisonous?” He said, cautiously taking a few steps closer to better examine the snake.

“He is an anaconda, so no. If you let him out, he might squeeze you to death though. I’ve found that he’s a pretty enthusiastic hugger.”

“I hope you’re joking.” Tony kept an impressively straight face, and Bruce groaned. “Can I ask why it is exactly that you have a pet anaconda? That doesn’t sound particularly safe.  Or legal.”

Tony shrugged, leading Bruce away from the enormous snake. “Seemed like a good idea at the time? He makes fantastic security, but he’s totally friendly really. Just don’t get on the wrong side of him.”

“Seemed like a good idea?” Bruce quoted. “That’s… Not a reason.” Tony smirked but didn’t say any more, as Bruce let out a small bemused sigh. “So,” he said, clearly deciding that moving the conversation away from the giant snake in the room was the best plan at that moment. “Is this what your lab at school is like?” He asked, looking around curiously. Once he’d gotten over the momentary shock of Happy and he actually had time to take in and appreciate how much awesome stuff Tony kept in this room, he was suitably impressed.

“School’s more of a science lab, but this one is a bit of a workshop and a bit of a garage. It’s all more engineering and mechanics and stuff. I know you’re not really into that but I figured I’d show you while you’re here.” Tony explained absently, waking up a computer program and checking the progress of a download bar while Bruce pored over some blueprints he had stuck up haphazardly on the wall. “JARVIS, let me know when that’s fully installed and ready for use.”

The cool automated voice affirmed the request, and Tony joined Bruce, looking at the sheets. “What is it?” Bruce asked after a moment or two. “I can’t tell from these design sheets.”

Tony chuckled, reattaching a corner that had unstuck. “Well, it’s not finished yet. Not even half way finished, in fact. But in the end, it’s going to be a robot.” He said casually, expecting a slightly doubtful reaction. He wasn’t disappointed.

“A robot.” Bruce said blankly. “You mean, another model like JARVIS? An AI?” He said, his voice hesitant.

Tony shook his head. “Theoretically it should be easier to create than JARVIS, but he’s basically just a glorified computer at the moment. It was all coding and computer programming. This involves actually building and making stuff and it’s taking a while, but the plan is for a fully functional robot. I don’t even know if it’s going to work.” Tony confessed, running a hand over the sketches and measurements.

“I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.” Bruce said reassuringly, grinning at Tony. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.” As soon as he had offered this, a large yawn escaped from his mouth as the travelling and flurry of Christmas activities, not to mention the pressure of making a good impression on just about the wealthiest man in the world had worn him out. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Tony nodded in agreement. It had certainly been a long day, and the days leading up to Christmas were usually some of Howard’s most stressful; plenty of sleep was definitely a must if you wanted any chance of surviving them. The two of them returned to Tony’s room, with Bruce only walking in the wrong direction three times, and got ready for bed. They were both still in the habit of getting changed facing opposite directions, an irritating yet required process that Tony had almost had to find out the hard way at the start of term, and Tony didn’t exactly know what to think of it. It wasn’t like he thought that just because he and Bruce were dating now, it meant mutual nakedness was a requirement, but neither did he want to be in a position where he was waiting for Bruce to make the first move, but Bruce was relying on him to do the same.

They were comfortable where they were for the time being, however, so Tony saw no need to push it. “You coming in?” He asked, a small mountain of pillows stuffed behind his head and bed sheets pulled up to his chin. “It’s a bit cold under here, Brucey.” He whined, flirting playfully with the other boy. “I think I need you to come in here and wrap me up in your big toasty arms.” He put on his favourite ‘innocent young boy needs protecting’ face, and Bruce laughed before clambering in beside him.

“You’re not going to enforce compulsory spooning in the middle of the night, are you?” Bruce teased, accidentally nudging his leg against Tony’s thigh as he settled down. Tony’s heart jumped a little bit- not that he was planning to admit it.

“It depends whether or not I’m the big spoon.” Tony grinned into the darkness, as Bruce chuckled.

“I guess we’ll have to run some experiments to determine that, Stark.”

Tony rolled over, burying his face in the stack of pillows, and mumbled, “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At one point, I was all 'Oh hey, I'll save it so I can post Christmas at Christmas!'. Then I missed Christmas. Twice. And I'm not waiting for a third one. So you get this almost as far away from Christmas as you can physically get.
> 
> Anyway, come follow me on [tumblr](http://alpha-lahey.tumblr.com) and stuff.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I didn't post last week there was a reason thanks to the person that asked me about it I'm just going to c&p my response :))
> 
> Basically, this fic has a really weird history. I started writing it nearly two years ago now, in October kind of time 2012. I worked on it for about eight months, wrote about 11 chapters, when last summer, I got all disheartened with it and basically just gave it up. It was really stupid I'm not sure why that happened any more to be quite honest. So, this March, I found it on my laptop and read it and decided that it actually wasn't as terrible as I remembered, and besides, I spent months working on it and had written about 60k and that would be the biggest waste of time ever unless I finished it. So I decided to finish it.
> 
> I figured that if I started posting it, I'd have more motivation to continue, and once a week gave me nearly three months to complete the final three or four chapters and wrap it up. Long story short, this didn't happen. I've written about a chapter and a half in two months (I know, I'm lame) because I forgot about the seven weeks of super important exams I had in May, which I had to study for, obviously. So I've decided to post every other week from now on, in order to give me more time to get ahead and finish it so you guys don't have to have super long breaks when you're used to once a week! If I catch up and it looks like I'm going to finish in good time, I'll switch back to once a week. Sorry for messing you guys around, I just really don't want to make you wait for ages! :)
> 
> Anyway. Next chapter. It is Christmas time in the Stark household yet it is glorious sunshine and 28 degrees Celsius at the height of summer in my household. Sigh. I tried.

Tony wasn’t the kind of person to enjoyed waking up early. Period. It didn’t matter whether it was Monday morning for school, or Sunday morning, nursing a bad hangover from a rough night before, or, indeed, Christmas Day; the chances are, given his way, he wouldn’t emerge until past noon, possibly because he didn’t usually go to bed until at least 3am. Howard used to chide him on it, telling him that it would mess up his internal body clock for the rest of his life, but had given up trying to make Tony readjust when his son had pointed out that that would actually suit him fine, thank you very much.

So it was a surprise to him when his blurry eyes peeled themselves open to see that the clock balanced precariously on his bedside table read 6:48 in the morning. He groaned under his breath, tugging the duvet back around himself. A few things that he had found while sharing a bed with Bruce were that firstly, he apparently had a tendency to cocoon himself in his bed sheets and secondly, so did Bruce. Which made things… Interesting, to say the least. Late night duvet tug-of-wars had occurred the past two nights, with them of each managing to win once each. Last night, it was Bruce, which may explain Tony’s early wake up; who’d have thought that it might be cold on December 25th?

He yanked the material firmly, hoping to pull just enough of it away to snuggle under, trying to catch a few more hours of sleep, but all he succeeded in doing was making Bruce roll over, his face just inches from Tony’s. Oh fuck it. Tony thought. If he had to be up at this ridiculous hour on Christmas, Bruce should be forced to suffer it too, particularly since it was his fault in the first place.

Tony shuffled closer to the other boy, closing the remaining few inches of space between them and pressing his lips against Bruce’s softly. A low moan spilled from the boy’s lips as they parted slightly, and Tony pulled away, expecting him to stir.

“Tony…” He muttered quietly, each syllable drawn out to at least twice its normal length. “Hmm…” Tony grinned, about to burst out with a loud ‘Merry Christmas!’, until he realised that Bruce’s eyes were still shut tight. Tony moved to kiss Bruce again, more firmly this time, and the noise the escaped from Bruce’s mouth was like nothing Tony had ever heard- at least, not in real life. In porn, maybe, yes. The moan was deep and guttural and so damn hot that Tony could practically feel all the blood in his body moving south.

Bruce had shifted closer still to Tony, gripping his arm tightly without realising. However, this move also meant that they were almost locked together from the chest down. Which wouldn’t be a problem if both of them weren’t sporting boners the size of the Empire State Building. “Tony…” He murmured again, a contented smile appearing on his face. He rolled his hips forward and Tony gasped at the friction.

“Bruce…” He said weakly, reluctantly wriggling away from the other boy. “Come on, big guy, gimme a break here. Wake up!” He all but yelled in the end, and Bruce sat bolt upright with a start, the duvet he’d been hogging promptly falling off the bed.

“Huh? Wuz happened?” Bruce said sleepily, peering at Tony blearily. And then he looked down. “You…”

“Yup.” Tony nodded, determinedly looking at Bruce’s face, even though the other boy was showing no signs of similar courtesy.

“And I-”

“Uh huh.” Tony confirmed, still managing to hold his resolution despite really, really wanting to give in to his curiosity. “Were you having a sexy dream, Brucey?” Tony grinned, enjoying himself as Bruce squirmed, refusing to make eye contact as he blushed furiously. “About me? Oh, I’m honoured. I must say, it sure was fun to watch.”

“I hate you.”

“At this point in time, the evidence does point to the contrary, Mr. Banner.”

Bruce’s eyes fell back pointedly to Tony’s lap. “Yeah, and you can talk.” He said defensively.

“Like I said, it was fun to watch. And then I got roped into being a passive participant…”

“I didn’t, did I? Oh God.” Bruce was clearly more embarrassed that he had ever been in his life. “Shit, Tony, I’m so sorry. I’ve never… I’m not…”

“Bruce. Calm down. It’s fine. More than fine, actually.” Tony stood up, trying to act nonchalant about the fact that the sweats he threw on the previous night were really doing nothing to preserve his modesty. “Feel free to use my bathroom to sort yourself out or whatever. There’s clean towels and stuff in the cupboard. I’ll go use the one in the guest room.” And totally not jerk off thinking about you jerking off in my shower, Tony added in his head. From the flush still creeping up Bruce’s cheeks, he guessed that the other boy knew what he was thinking. Bruce gave Tony a look, opening his mouth as if he was going to say something, before snapping it shut abruptly and hurrying into his bathroom.

Bruce was already sat back on the edge of Tony’s bed by the time he returned, which he had meticulously made and folded back like he did with his own bed at school every morning. Tony thought about how he usually left it bundled up in a heap, and grinned. “Merry Christmas, Bruce.”

“Merry Christmas, Tony.” He replied, standing up and throwing his arms around Tony’s shoulders. “Merry fucking Christmas.” He repeated, and then their lips crashed together. Bruce’s hands found their way into Tony’s still damp hair and clenched tight, holding them in their embrace. Tony let his own hands fall to Bruce’s waist, and proceeded to wrap his arms around him, holding him close as Bruce’s tongue worked its magic inside his mouth. Bruce smelled like his own shampoo, which brought endless satisfaction to Tony’s ego, among other things.

Bruce was in his house. Bruce was sharing his bed. Bruce was using his shower and stealing his hair products. Even though he’d already been at the tower for three nights, it suddenly felt real.

Tony broke off the kiss gently, looking down at Bruce. “I-” He started, and Bruce waited for him to say something more, but the words were stuck in his throat. Damn it, he thought, and lowered his head to a spot just below Bruce’s collar bone, pushing thin material out his way. Hopefully, whatever Bruce decides to wear this morning will cover him up enough to hide the enormous fucking hickey that Tony was about to bestow on Bruce’s flawless skin.

He kissed the spot first, and Bruce gasped as he realised exactly what was going through Tony’s head. “Fuck, Tony…” He whimpered the moment his teeth scraped over his collar bone. Tony grinned, encouraged by the reaction, and didn’t hesitate before biting down on to the skin, hard, but not hard enough to draw blood. Bruce honest-to-God whined. “I’m gonna need- shit- need another shower if you keep this- fuck- up.” He warned.

Tony would have replied with something suitably witty had his mouth not been otherwise engaged, sucking on the flesh gently and alternating bites and kisses to the same spot. From the noises Bruce was making, it sounded like he was satisfied. The hands in his hair were tighter than ever, Bruce tugging them slightly each time Tony gave him a soft bite.

“Tony, you’d better stop or I’m- I’m going to-” Bruce dropped his hands from Tony’s hair eventually, and Tony got the message. He pulled away, looking pleased with his handiwork. Bruce was flushed and panting slightly, his eyes wide and slightly watery. “You… are seriously amazing at that. Holy shit.”

Tony grinned. “I’ve had lots of practise.” He said, faux modestly, and Bruce snorted. “Uh, Pepper, she had a thing for them on her hip bones.” He explained awkwardly.

“Well, I’ll have to thank her for allowing you so much time for your skills to develop, because seriously, that was ridiculously good.” Bruce pulled the thin material of his shirt aside and peered down at the discoloured skin. “Hickeys are so weird. Like, why is that bruise sexy?” He laughed, covering it back up again. “Probably not the best idea to let your dad see that.”

*

“I always had you pegged as a crack of dawn present opening kind of guy at Christmas. I’m impressed that you had the patience for food.” Bruce remarked casually, around a mouthful of fried egg and toast that he had cooked them both. “You’re not going to tell me we’re expected to go on a walk before gifts, are you?”

Tony snorted. “We haven’t done the whole presents and traditions thing at Christmas in years. Not since my mum-” He stopped abruptly, and Bruce looked at him empathetically, but Tony hurried through the momentary stumble. “Not since she died. She was the one who sorted the gifts and made sure I didn’t break my neck rushing downstairs on Christmas morning when I was a kid.” He knew he was getting all depressing and probably ruining the vibe from this morning, and he shook it off and looked up at Bruce smiling too widely. “Don’t tell me you’re a late afternoon present opener, Banner. You wake up at like, five in the morning every day.”

Tony regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, as the now familiar flash of something crossed Bruce’s eyes, which was never a good sign. Normally, he had some sort of vague idea of what he might have said to cause offence, but this time he didn’t have a clue. It seemed like Bruce took an eternity to answer, but he knew it wasn’t long, really; Tony wondered whether he wanted to hear the answer.

“I’m- I never-” It was Bruce’s turn to trip over his words, and Tony couldn’t help but find it endearing- the other boy usually had a retort for everything. “Given a choice between eating and getting presents, you can probably guess that we went for the food.”

“You’ve never-”

“Not really. Mum’s gone. Dad gets drunk. I try to keep out of the way. I didn’t even realise you were supposed to get presents on Christmas until I was eight.”

Tony didn’t really know what to say to that, until he remembered something from a few days before. “Is that why you were so surprised? That night at the movie theatre, when I said I’d gotten you a present?” Bruce flushed a little and nodded, clearly embarrassed. “But you’d got me a present- I saw you put it under the tree yesterday. Am I seriously such a terrible person that you thought I wouldn’t get my best friend a gift on Christmas?”

Bruce swallowed his last mouthful of fried egg before shrugging. “I guess I’m just not used to having those kind of expectations. But now you’ve got me really excited and I kind of really want to know what you got me.”

Tony grinned, having finished his breakfast too, and led Bruce by the hand up to the top floor lounge. The tree in the corner, decorations looking particularly tacky during the daylight, now had a fairly large selection of gifts under it, each one varying in the quality of wrapping. The most haphazard ones were either Tony’s for Bruce, or the ones sent by Clint, and the official, professionally wrapped ones were to Tony, from assholes trying to curry favour with Howard.

“That is a lot of presents.” Bruce remarked, and Tony frowned.

“Way more than there usually is.” He checked the labels, curious, and then smirked. “Bruce, Merry Christmas, From Steve.” He read aloud, and Bruce checked the tag over his shoulder, making sure he wasn’t pulling his leg. “Bruce, I hope you have a Yuletide filled with feasting and merriment! Thor.” Tony chuckled at the next one, holding it up to let Bruce see it.

“Banner. Sorry I was a dick to you. I’m sure deep down, you don’t deserve it. Happy xmas. Clint.” Bruce laughed. “Wow, doesn’t that guy have a heart of gold? But seriously, why have your friends got me Christmas presents? Wait, shit. Was I supposed to get them something?” Tony could see Bruce about to enter into a full scale etiquette panic, and reassured him that no, they didn’t expect anything in return. Bruce’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Can I open my present from you now?” He asked excitedly. “Which one do I open first?”

“The small one.” Tony instructed, slightly nervous himself. “The small one is the personal, meaningful gift. The big one is the grand gesture, materialistic one.”

“Covering all bases?”

“Exactly.” Tony agreed, and Bruce peeled back the flap on the small envelope nervously. “Maybe you should have opened the big one first.” Tony said suddenly. “This might be a kind of rubbish first ever Christmas present.”

“Tony? Shut up.” Bruce smirked, and he pulled a piece of thick, official looking letter paper out of the envelope and looked at the five numbers written on it in fine, black ink. “Uh… Explain?” He asked Tony hopefully.

“Naturally. It’s the pass code to my lab at school- the one I hacked in to? I figured that, um, you like science and stuff, and I thought you might want access to it sometimes. You know, for whatever.” Tony couldn’t even tell whether this was a good idea or not any more- he wasn’t great at all this touchy feely meaningful crap and it was stressing him out to no end. Bruce still hadn’t said anything. “The second present is better?” Tony added uncertainly.

Bruce shook his head, looking at Tony in disbelief. “This is- Oh my god, Tony, this is- thank you.”

“You like it?” Tony said uncertainly. “I mean, it’s not really a present, but I figured that-”

“Tony, you hacked into a lab and changed all the passwords to gain access to it, presumably because you, as a spoilt brat, didn’t want to share it with anyone.” Bruce said, laughing, and Tony couldn’t help but grin in return. “The fact that you are letting me in means a lot to me. I love it.”

“You are possibly taking this a little more seriously than strictly necessary, but whatever. Now you have somewhere to blow shit up without Ross sticking us in another detention. Now, I think it’s my turn for a present.” Tony grinned. “Do I save yours for later?”

“Open whatever you want, Tony.” Bruce said, bemused. “What about this one?” Bruce handed over a present wrapped neatly in plain brown paper and tied with string that Tony could only presume was from Steve.

The blond boy had given Tony a pack of novelty Christmas socks, and given Bruce an iPod. From Thor, Bruce received a brand new cell phone, and Tony, a four jars of different flavoured European fruit jelly- or ‘jams’, as Thor heartily corrected him almost every day. After they’d both opened their gifts from Thor, Bruce turned to Tony, beyond confused.

“Why have all of your friends spent hundreds of dollars on me, but about $20 on you?” Bruce frowned, watching Tony getting excited about a jar of mushed up gooseberries.

“Uh, we decided that since we all have… plentiful household incomes, there was no point doing the expensive, big present thing. Thor knows I find American jelly way too sweet, so he sends me this amazing Norwegian jam from where his family comes from. Steve is just really cheesy, and he thinks Santa Claus socks are cool, even though you can only wear them one day a year, and even then you look like a twat.” He explained, waving his garishly clad toes in Bruce’s face.

“I didn’t realise there was an ‘opt out’ memo.” Bruce mumbled.

“For the record, I told them it was unnecessary.” Tony piped up, grinning. “Now open this one. It’s from Clint.” He pointed at a fairly large box that was wrapped- very badly- in birthday wrapping paper. “He tries.” Tony said in mock seriousness.

Bruce snorted, and removed the evidence of the incorrect holiday unceremoniously. Tony took one look at a sticker on the box and burst out laughing. “I don’t get it.” Bruce said, now slightly wary of the contents. Tony did the honours of removing the tape, and Bruce opened the lid to find… “Boxing gloves?” He said in disbelief, holding them up. Tony, still laughing, handed him the note. “‘You pack a mean swing. Try hitting this instead of me next time.’” Along with the gloves, there was also a small, lightweight punching bag.

“He knows you well, that one.” Bruce threw one of the gloves at Tony’s head, but it missed. “That was an unprovoked attack!” Tony protested, holding his hands up in surrender. “Totally unnecessary.” Tony snatched up his present from Clint, which was small and wrapped in pink paper with butterflies on it.

Tony tore off the offending paper, revealing a box of microwaveable popcorn. Clint had scrawled, ‘Try eating it this time.’ on the side. Tony sighed. “My problem is, it’s just way more fun throwing it at his head.”

Bruce chuckled. “Um, Tony? There’s two more for you here in the same paper.” Bruce pointed out, and handed them to Tony, who opened the first one, to find an enormous box of condoms. “He should know by now that I have plenty of these as it is.” It was after he opened the second one that his jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”

“What is it?” Bruce said, grinning. “A box of tissues? Because God knows, you have enough of those in your room as it is too.”

Tony looked at him, the shock flicking over to a faux exasperation and amusement. “Oh, it’s nothing. Inside joke. I just didn’t realise he still remembered.” Tony went to move the gift out of Bruce’s eyesight, but he lunged and snatched it before Tony really had time to react.

“Aha!” He said triumphantly, and Tony grimaced as Bruce actually looked at what he was holding. “… So I’m going to presume that this is, in fact, not an inside joke? Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.” Bruce said lightly, turning the bottle of lube over in his hand. He again recognised Clint’s now familiar scrawl. He remarked, “He does like to leave his mark on things, doesn’t he? ‘I thought you two might find this useful over the Christmas break. Hope you are having fun.’ Incidentally, why didn’t you tell me you’d told him?”

Tony couldn’t believe Bruce was being so calm. “I didn’t.” He said emphatically, and Bruce’s smile faded just a little bit. “It must have been- but he wouldn’t dare-”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Tony… What is it that you’re not telling me? Who wouldn’t dare do what?”

“Loki.” Tony breathed. He looked up at Bruce and met his eyes. “He knows about us. Sort of. I mean, he probably suspects greatly, even if he doesn’t have any concrete evidence. Um, he overheard us that day in the lobby, after detention.”

Bruce took a moment to assimilate this new information, then burst out laughing. “Oh, screw him. He’s an asshole. No-one likes him or listens to anything that comes out of his evil little mouth.”

“Well, Barton obviously did.”

Bruce shrugged. “Barton knows you well enough to judge whether it’s true or not. And anyway, from what I know of Barton, yeah, he’s kind of a dick and he’ll make a load of stupid jokes and never leave us alone about it, but he’s not going to stand on the roof with a megaphone and announce to the entire world that Howard Stark’s son is fucking his roommate.”

“Not that I’m actually fucking my roommate.” Tony said under his breath.

“Well, we have the means now, at least. Perhaps we should go christen your new gifts.”

Tony spluttered, Bruce having made him once again lost for words. “You’re kidding, right? You’re not serious. Are you? Tell me you are joking. Bruce?”

“I’m joking, Tony.” Bruce reassured him, grinning widely at the expression on Tony’s face. “But do you not want to have sex with me?” He teased, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“It’s not that I don’t, but more that I think there are more accepted ways of building up to that, none of which have we crossed yet.” Tony phrased delicately, and Bruce’s eyebrows raised.

“Tony Stark; the traditionalist. Who’d have thought it?”

Tony shrugged. “I really kind of care about you and I know you’ve not had sex before, and if at some point we do end up having sex, I want your first time to be special, and I want you to be comfortable around me.”

Bruce blinked, clearly surprised that Tony actually possessed a thoughtful, emotional side, and red flushed Tony’s cheeks. “Can we carry on with the presents now? Because we’re nearly at the one for me from you and I want to see what you got me.”

Bruce smiled nervously, picking up a small, thin box addressed to him, but with no sender. He took off the lid and gasped. “Oh my God, that is beautiful. And I have no idea who it’s from. Wait, did you have anything to do with this?” Bruce asked suspiciously, as Tony smirked.

“Nope!” He said, breaking out into a wide grin. Bruce looked at him doubtfully. “Okay, so maybe I did, but it’s not from me. It’s from Howard- well, the scholarship fund, technically. There’s supposed to be a small gift on Christmas, but he figured you could get a bonus, since the other scholarship kids don’t usually last long enough to get their present. Do you like it?”

Bruce looked at the simple, yet somehow intricately detailed fountain pen resting in the box, and nodded. “I love it. Make sure I thank your dad for it later.”

“With your manners, I somehow doubt you forgetting will be an issue. Can I open your present now?”

“I hope you’re not expecting anything particularly awesome.” Bruce said, smiling despite himself. “It’s not, um-”

“It’s not a Rolex, I get it. Bruce, you seriously overestimate my regard for stupidly expensive gifts.” Tony tutted. “Now, gimme.” And Bruce nervously handed over the package, in holiday-appropriate paper.

Inside the small box was a set of cufflinks, one with a T on it, and the other an S. “Bruce… These are amazing.”

Bruce blushed. “I was going to get a T and a B, but then I thought people might wonder where the B came from, so I thought the S was safer. You’re narcissistic enough to pull them off.” He grinned, obviously relieved that Tony had liked them.

“Oi!” He protested. “Although I guess only a certain kind of person could get away with wearing initialled cufflinks- maybe you have a point.”

“They’re made out of up-cycled typewriter keys, apparently.” Bruce told him. “I thought they were really cool. And environmentally friendly, too. Save the planet and that.” He babbled nervously. “I thought they might make you think of me in the middle of all those crap rich people social events- you know, the ones that make shirts with cufflinks necessary- and you might just get through them without going crazy.”

Tony rested his hand on Bruce’s knee and smiled with more honesty than he had in a long time. He didn’t realise it until he met the other boy, but Bruce was everything that he needed and quite a lot more that he simply wanted. “Thanks, Bruce. I love them.”

Bruce beamed, looking as if all the cares in the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He pulled the last present towards him happily, and Tony sat back and watched his reaction.

“S-Seriously?” Bruce stuttered as he looked at what was inside. “Tony, what- You really didn’t have to. This is too much-” He protested. Tony opened his mouth to defend himself but Bruce cut him off. “Tony, I can’t accept this.”

“I thought we might have this problem.” Tony said gravely, and he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket.

“What’s that?”

“The receipt.” Tony said casually, before pulling out a lighter too, and holding the flame up against the paper. It caught easily, and Bruce looked on in a combination of shock and exasperation. Tony blew out the fire just before it reached his fingers. The blackened remains fell to the floor. “Oops. Guess you’ll just have to graciously accept it.”

“You’re a dick.” Bruce said flatly, turning the box of his brand new laptop in his hands. “But seriously Tony, this is too much.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s why I did the personal, thoughtful one at the start, remember? Don’t make me feel like an over-privileged asshole now, or I’ll change the password on the door. Just promise me you won’t just spend all your free time watching porn.” He teased, and Bruce replied seriously that he couldn’t make any promises.

There was a brief silence as the two of them realised that there was nothing left to open, and they were at a bit of a loss at what to do with themselves for the next couple of hours.

“Do you want to, uh, utilise Clint’s gift?” Tony suggested, thinking that maybe the microwave popcorn and a dodgy holiday film might be a good solution. Bruce spluttered, making unintelligible but clearly indignant protests until Tony realised what was the matter. “I meant- shut up, Bruce, I meant the fucking popcorn.” Tony tutted. “Let me rephrase the question- do you want to watch some cheesy Christmas movie while eating microwave popcorn? And if the answer is yes, which terrible Christmas movie do you want to watch?”

Bruce relaxed visibly, and shrugged. “I don’t know… What do you have? I don’t really watch a lot of films, especially at this time of year.”

“Start off on the basis that we have everything. Do you want something classic or something new? Light-hearted or super depressing?” Tony prompted, his mind steadily whirring through a virtual catalogue of holiday themed DVDs.

“Uh, classic and light-hearted?” Bruce said unconfidently, and Tony broke into a wide grin.

“I have got the perfect thing.” He threw the box of popcorn to Bruce, who actually managed to catch it despite Tony giving him no warning whatsoever. “You think you can handle the microwave?” He asked seriously, and Bruce flipped him off and retreated into the drinks area at the end, where a microwave had been built into one of the cabinets.

Tony grabbed a box off the shelf and slipped the disc into the player, and Bruce had returned with the enormous bowl of corn just as the movie began to play. “Miracle On 34th Street? It isn’t Christmas without it.” Bruce remarked, awkwardly standing as Tony had made himself comfortable lying across the entire width of the couch. “You gonna move so I can sit down too?” He asked sarcastically.

Tony just shrugged, indicating the space in front of him. To be fair, the couch was ridiculously deep for one person, and there was plenty of room for a second person to lie down.

“What was that conversation we had about spooning the other night, Stark?” Bruce raised his eyebrows, setting the popcorn bowl down before it spilled everywhere.

“If I remember correctly, there was talk of carrying out some sort of experiments to find out who was the big spoon? Today, it’s my turn.” Tony said smugly, and Bruce laughed, giving in to the inevitable and fitting himself in front of Tony. Due to the fact that the couch was ridiculously large, Bruce wasn’t exactly in danger of falling off, and it was more comfortable than both of them had expected.

“I’m holding you to that, you know.” Bruce joked, settling against his boyfriend’s body. “Popcorn?”

*

That Christmas was without a doubt the best Christmas that Tony had ever had, and he was pretty sure that Bruce shared the sentiment. They’d had the farewell kiss in Tony’s bedroom before they boarded the plane that was to fly them both, and Howard, west to California for the New Year. Tony had all but begged Bruce to stay with them in Malibu until they had to go back to school, but Bruce shook his head- he couldn’t avoid his father forever, he’d said patiently, and besides, family is family. It was all together unwillingly that they parted as Bruce got into a taxi to take him back to his father.

Not that Tony was exactly lonely over the last few days before term started. New Year’s Eve was the only night of the year when Howard caved to throwing an enormous party, and mixed in with the various rich and influential people were friends of Tony’s in the form of their children, who he didn’t get to see very often any more.

“Rhodey!” He yelled gleefully as a large black Hummer pulled on to their driveway. “It’s been too long, man!” His enthusiasm was not, in this case, even faked- Rhodey was pretty much the only person outside Erskine he could class as a friend. “Time for a catch-up, old bean?” Tony grinned, holding up his glass.

Rhodey nodded, falling easily into step behind Tony as they tried to navigate their way through the throng of people to the bar. “Have a good Christmas? Heard you had a friend to stay. Not usually your style, is it, Stark?”

Tony shrugged. “Bruce is… Uh, Banner is kind of different. He’s a good guy and as far as I could figure, he didn’t have the best track record with fantastic Christmases, so I thought I’d extend the invite. And you know how Howard gets. It was nice having someone else around for a change.”

“Banner, huh?” Rhodey hummed, taking a sip from his glass. “I don’t recognise the name. New kid?”

Tony nodded, deciding how much he should tell his friend. “On a scholarship. We’re, uh, sharing a room.”

“They put a scholarship kid in the same room as you? That was… brave.” Rhodey joked, shaking his head slightly. “I can’t believe he’s still there, let alone that you guys actually get on well enough for you to bring him home to meet the folks.”

Tony shrugged and his right hand wandered to his sleeve where a brass cufflink with the letter T on it lay against the stiff shirt. “I might have been a bit of a shit to him at first, but I guess we just learned to settle our differences, and found that we both weren’t quite as infuriating as we thought each other to be.” Rhodey looked at him sceptically, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “What?” Tony said defensively.

“You just acknowledged you treated him like crap and that you were infuriating? Is this kid a roommate or a miracle worker?”

“I said that he found me infuriating.” Tony clarified, and Rhodey just sent him one of his favourite ‘cut the bullshit’ looks, which he seemed to be on a receiving end of pretty frequently these days. “Oh, whatever. He doesn’t put up with any of my excessively self-indulgent tendencies, and I don’t let him wallow in his own self-destructive ones. And he’s actually a nice guy, which is pretty rare these days. I think you’d like him.”

Rhodey laughed a little under his breath, helping himself to a handful of potato chips from the huge table of snacks forming the centre piece of the lounge. “You know, there’s really no need to justify yourself to me, Tony. You could be dating a fifty four year old pole dancer and I wouldn’t give a shit as long as you were having fun.”

Tony snorted. “Wow, thanks Rhodes. It’s nice to know I have your blessing, by any means.”

Rhodey cracked up, and a few of the various adults turned to them in order to shoot scathing looks at the teenagers causing a racket. “I knew it.” Rhodey wheezed through his laughter. Tony was slightly worried that he would probably damage one of his vital internal organs if he tried to control himself, so he just glared back at everyone until they turned away once more. “I fucking knew it. You’re sleeping together, aren’t you? Fucking hell, Stark, you do like to rock the boat, don’t you?”

Tony’s mouth fell open, shocked as he realised the slip that he had made- or rather, the slip Rhodey had tricked him into falling for. “Rhodey, seriously, you can’t tell anyone.” He said, quietly but with urgency. “You know what would happen if someone found out- we’d both be completely fucked.”

He nodded in understanding. “Don’t worry, Stark, I’m not going to tell anyone your secret. Big gay love nest scandals are way too exhausting to even bother. Just tell me one thing?” Tony sighed, nodding in agreement. “Is the sex good?”

Tony pulled a face. “We’re taking it slow.” He explained around a gulp of his favourite drink, ‘vodka plus unidentified non-alcoholic substance’. “I mean, he hasn’t ever… you know… so I really don’t want to push him into anything.”

The other boy let out a low whistle. “Seriously, who is this new and improved Tony Stark? Being considerate, accepting and not purely thinking about what you’re going to stick your cock into? This kid is certainly a good influence. I’m happy for you, Tony.”

“Thirty! Twenty nine! Twenty eight! Twenty seven!” The countdown to midnight had begun and Tony watched as everyone drunkenly located their loved ones in order to herald in the New Year.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year, Rhodey.” Tony said, raising his glass and draining it in a few quick swallows. “Hope you have a great one.”

“Right back at you, Stark. And tell that guy of yours best wishes from me, too. Next time I’m out east, I’ll have to stop by; I wanna meet him.”

The guests had all trailed out by half three in the morning, by which time even Tony was ready to sink down into his bed and fall asleep, taking comfort in the fact that it was just a few more days until he’d be away from Howard once more and back where he was comfortable- just a few more days until Tony could see Bruce again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on [tumblah](http://alpha-lahey.tumblr.com). I know. I'm totally begging for follows. Whatever.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola, dudeskis. I hope this chapter is worth the extra week of waiting! On the up side, I did rattle through a chapter and a half this last week, so it's going pretty good. Not sure how many chapters there will be yet, but probably around the 16/17ish mark? We'll see. Hope you enjoy!

“Honey, I’m home!” Tony called as he pushed the door open to his room back at Erskine. He’d already spoken to Steve and Thor, thanking them for their presents before subtly asking if they’d seen Banner yet. From the knowing looks that he received in return, and from the awkward silence that followed, Tony guessed that Clint- or Loki, for that matter- had not hesitated in spreading the news. Bruce didn’t even look up from where he was unpacking the last of his things and returning them to their specifically assigned shelves. “Bruce? The ‘honey’ was you, incidentally.”

“I figured.” He said coldly, not a hint of his usual dry humour in his words. “Welcome back, Tony.” And he looked up.

Tony winced. One side of his face was purple and blue, and there was a cut above his eye, which was already starting to heal over. He reached a hand out to touch the other boy but Bruce backed away quickly, a flash of fear darting across his eye, barely visible under the swelling. It wasn’t just the wounds that made Bruce look different- his expression was defeated and his eyes, normally full of emotion, were blank. And _Bruce was scared of him_.

It was far from the Bruce that Tony had parted with only a week before.

“Bruce… What happened?” He said hollowly, even though the answer really couldn’t have been that complicated.

“I tripped over and caught my head on the corner of a table. It’s nothing.” Bruce said carefully, the answer obviously previously constructed.

The bruises were a few days old at least, the deep purple starting to turn a murky green around the edges. A few days… Tony counted back. _New Year’s Eve._ “Your dad.” Tony breathed, half to himself and half to Bruce. “He…”

“I tripped and I fell.” Bruce said firmly, turning his face the other way so Tony couldn’t see the evidence any longer.

“Bruce, you can’t lie about something like this-”

“Why the fuck not?” Bruce exploded, and Tony flinched, having seen the consequences of an angry Bruce Banner after his fight with Barton, and not relishing being on the receiving end of the same experience. “Who am I going to tell? What the fuck do I say? And then what happens? I’m underage; I don’t turn eighteen for almost another year. What happens to me then?”

Tony was so furious he was struggling to think straight. “Bruce, you- he hit you.”

“He’s done it before and he’ll do it again.” Bruce snapped angrily, colour rising in his face. Tony felt the ridiculous urge to back away. “You think you understand but you _don’t._ Yeah, you don’t get on with your dad. Yeah, maybe he acts like a twat sometimes, but he loves you, and he wants what is best for you even if he goes about it in the wrong way. Fuck, even your daddy issues are privileged.”

A retort was on the tip of Tony’s tongue, but he let it fall. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here, okay?” He said eventually, before moving back over to his side of the room and unpacking the few bits and pieces he’d taken home.

Bruce nodded slowly, and didn’t say another word for the rest of the evening.

Tony tried to get some sleep, still suffering sleeping pattern irregularities from the lack of rigid timetable over the past couple of weeks, but despite his best efforts, visions of Bruce’s bruises and of himself throwing beating the shit out of Brian Banner and seeing how he liked it kept him up all night, grinding his teeth in fury.

*

“Don’t bother trying to cover it.” Tony advised when he rolled out of bed the following morning to see Bruce admiring the swelling in a small mirror. “It only emphasises the bruising. Not to be rude or anything, but I don’t think many people care enough to spare a second’s thought about whether tripping can give you an injury to that extent.”

Bruce looked up, and even under the bruising, Tony could see there were deep shadows under his eyes- obviously he wasn’t the only one who had lost sleep last night. “It’s nice to know that no-one gives a shit that my dad beat me half to death.” Bruce said lightly, shrugging on his school shirt and buttoning it quickly, but not fast enough to prevent Tony seeing more discoloured patches across his rib cage.

“You should get that checked out. He could have easily broken a bone or something, and the last thing we want is like, bone fragments damaging internal organs.”

Bruce turned to him, throwing his tie around his neck as he did, and gave him a _look_. “Tony, I think I would be able to tell if any of my ribs were broken, okay? Just let it go. If you start having a mini heart attack every time you see a new bruise, it is going to get really old, really fast. I’m fine, I promise. My dad is 3000 miles away. I’m as safe here as I’m going to get without leaving the country.”

Tony yanked his own tie tight and nodded, thinking that suggesting Canada as an option would probably not go down too well. “Okay, well… If you are positive you’re not going to get jumped on the way downstairs, could I tempt you with some breakfast before we embark on get another term of mind numbing boredom at the hands of the American education system?”

Bruce grinned. “It would be a genuine pleasure.”

“Dude, what happened to your face?” It took about two seconds from Clint seeing Bruce for the first time in three weeks and the elephant in the room to be highlighted.

“I had a few too many on New Year’s Eve and tripped and hit my head on a table.” Bruce said irritably, clearly annoyed to have been affronted mere moments after he had put his plate down on the table.

Clint raised an eyebrow sceptically as he quickly surveyed the damage. “Well, all I can say is I hope you gave as good as you got.”

“Oh yeah, you should see the other guy.” Tony breezed, grinning as he took his place next to Bruce. “Bruce messed up his face permanently. He’ll have problems breathing through his left nostril for the rest of his life.” Tony yelped slightly as Bruce’s foot collided with his shin and he fell silent.

“No, Barton, for your information, I didn’t get in a single swing. I like to save them all for you, you see.” Bruce explained, smiling sweetly before returning to his fantastically healthy stack of waffles and syrup. “And while we’re on the topic, thanks a lot for the Christmas present. I love it.”

“The Christmas present for you, or the Christmas present for Tony?” Clint smirked, managing to stuff an entire pancake in his mouth at once.

Bruce blushed a dark red, clearly mortified by the memory, no matter how funny he’d found it at the time. “The one for me, funnily enough.”

“You didn’t enjoy my gift then, Tony?” Clint smirked. It was clear he viewed himself absolutely hilarious, no matter what anyone else thought, and Tony couldn’t resist the urge to flip the cocky twat off.

“Some sort of prior announcement along the lines of 'Congratulations on your couple-hood' would have been nice. Perhaps some home baked cookies with the condoms, or a bottle of champagne or something.” Tony suggested, rolling his eyes. “Incidentally, how did you find out? Thor?”

“Good morning, my friends! Did you have a joyous holiday?” Thor boomed as he sat down heavily next to them, before shoving a blueberry Pop Tart into his mouth. “You mentioned my name, Tony?”

“Tony wants to know whether it was you who told me that these two were taking advantage of the shared dormitory.” Clint said conversationally, and Thor chuckled.

“Indeed it was. I had my suspicions for several weeks, but Luke informed me that you seemed very cosy just a few days before Christmas.” He said obliviously as Tony rolled his eyes.

“And what, you thought it would be a great idea to tell everyone in the entire school?” He groaned, rubbing his eyes wearily at the lack of common sense often displayed by his friend.

“Tell everyone in the entire school what?” Steve said, bouncing over brightly. “That we are so totally set to win our soccer game against Aequitas next week?” He took a swig of orange juice and surveyed the scene at the table, his expression growing more and more perplexed by the second. “Okay, what did I miss?”

Thor looked at Tony, slightly annoyed. “Clint happened to be around when Luke informed me of what was happening. I didn’t tell anyone anything, thank you very much.”

Tony muttered an apology, and couldn’t help notice Bruce getting more and more flustered. “You okay?” He said under his breath, and Bruce nodded.

“Tell Steve.” He replied. “But let’s leave it there for now, yeah?”

“Tell me what?” Rogers said indignantly. “Are you keeping things from me again? Like that time you stole my teddy bear in freshman year and threw it into the pond and didn’t tell me for a month even though you knew I was looking for it?”

Clint sniggered helplessly. “You’re seriously still mad about that? Man up, Steve, it was a joke. We didn’t even like you freshman year.”

“Thanks a lot, Barton.”

Sensing that old rivalries erupting into bloody warfare while everyone else in the school was just trying to force breakfast down on the first morning back would probably cast a damper on proceedings, Tony held up a hand and the two of them ceased, at least for now. “Steve, I would urge you to keep this to yourself, but Bruce and I…” He paused, hunting for the right way to phrase ‘Bruce and I are finding much pleasure in thoroughly licking each other’s tongues’ delicately enough for Steve’s delicate ears. _Oh, fuck it._ “Bruce and I are dating.”

Steve spat his juice across the table. “You’re _what?_ ” He yelped. What felt like the entire school looked over at them. “I mean… You’re what?” He repeated quieter, as if he thought that maybe saying it again would eliminate the first, completely obvious reaction. Bruce groaned, burying his blushing face in his hands.

“Bruce, me, dating. As in, boyfriends. Preferably of the ‘secret’ kind, if you lot can keep your mouths shut.” Tony explained, before waiting patiently for Steve to say something.

“But- you’re both- you don’t-” He stammered, shaking his head slightly.

“We’re both guys?” Bruce contributed helpfully. “Funny how that homosexuality thing works, isn’t it, Rogers?” Tony thought that maybe they should have been more sensitive in telling Steve, and that maybe a less public space would have been a better idea. He could have predicted that of the three of them, Steve would take it worst, mostly due to his traditional upbringing, but he had hoped that Thor would have enabled him to skip the awkward coming out speech by telling him before.

“Give him a minute, Bruce.” Tony murmured, too quietly for Steve to overhear. “He was never really brought up in this new liberal society and it might take him a while to adjust.” He raised his voice back up to a volume the rest of the table to discern. “We’re just the same as we were before, but now, very occasionally, because Bruce is no fun, large amounts of saliva are exchanged.”

“Just what I wanted to hear half way through a glass of pineapple juice, thanks Stark.” Clint remarked dryly. “Anyway, the bell’s gonna go soon, I’ll see you guys later. Stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble? Us?” Tony deadpanned, managing to pull off a rather unlikely straight face. “We are the poster boys for good behaviour.”

“Yeah, not sure that’s exactly what they’re calling it these days, Stark.”

*

Tony couldn’t help but observe that Bruce was very good at deflecting questions about the state of his face, with the perfect amount of humour that allowed everyone to just laugh it off and move on. Tony became more and more uncomfortable with it each time the question was inevitably asked, and was sickened when the other people invariably burst out laughing and called Bruce a lightweight.

“People are shitheads.” He said to Bruce later that night. Bruce was studying already, despite it being the first day back, and had managed to persuade Tony to open one of his textbooks in preparation for a pop quiz that was being sprung on them the following day, but he couldn’t focus on the words.

“An astute analysis, Stark. Am I allowed to hear the reasoning behind it?” Bruce said coolly, not even looking up from his steadily filling notebook.

“Everyone knows you didn’t get _that_ from hitting your head on a table. It doesn’t even make sense.” He began.

“Tony, drop it, please.”

“No, but… Does no-one care? Like, not even Clint and Steve and Thor questioned it.”

Bruce put his pen down- the one he got for Christmas, Tony noted- and looked at him. “People don't like to get involved, Tony. Everyone knows I didn't really get this," he gestured towards his face needlessly, "how I said I got it. Clint's happy to believe I got in a fist fight while drunk, because it’s easier than having to confront the truth. People don't know how to handle it."

“But-”

“Tony, I gave up on people trying to help me a long time ago. The older you get, the more often people realise you're lying, and the less people care.” Tony could tell Bruce was tired of the topic, as it had followed him around all day in whispers and stares, but he couldn't stop himself blurting out one final thing.

“I care.”

There was a pause, and then Bruce sighed. “I know you do. And I appreciate it. But there’s still not anything you can do. I wish there was, but there’s not.”

“Tony! Tony, we need to go!” Steve yelled through the door, managing to interrupt at the most inconvenient moment possible.

Tony groaned. He’d totally forgotten about soccer practise tonight. “Shit Bruce, I’m so sorry, I kind of have to-”

“Stark! You know if you’re late, Hammer will just be a twat about it, come on!”

Tony threw an apologetic look at Bruce, who smiled at him falsely. “Tony, go. I’ll be fine. Kick Hammer’s ass.”

Tony grinned and hastily shoved all of his kit into a bag, waving Bruce goodbye awkwardly before Steve practically dragged him down the stairs. “Steve, calm down for God’s sake.” Tony tugged his arm from his friend’s grasp, wincing slightly. “What’s with all the sudden enthusiasm for soccer practise? _Please_ don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for Danvers or something.”

Steve fixed him with a glare, and Tony smirked. “Just because I like to be punctual, Stark.” He sniffed. The two of them walked in silence until they were out of the building, and then Rogers pulled him to a stop out of sight of anybody walking around. Tony raised an eyebrow expectantly, but Steve seemed to be having trouble forming an articulate sentence. “So, uh…” He muttered, looking at the ground beneath his feet intently. “You and Bruce, huh?”

Tony blinked, unsure of what Steve wanted him to say. “Yeah, I guess. Is it gonna be a problem? Because if it is, I’d rather know now, so we can figure some way to work around it or something. Despite your pretentious moral crap, you’re a pretty good friend most of the time.”

Steve chuckled. “Wow. He’s having a good effect on you, that’s for sure. Tony… That’s what I wanted to say. Earlier, I acted… You took me by surprise, and I wanted you to know that, um, I’m happy for you. Uh, that you’re happy. Um.”

“And here I thought you were pulling me out of sight for a quick rendezvous behind these incredibly romantic bins.” Tony said seriously. Steve rolled his eyes. “Thanks, though. Can we get out of this corner now please? People might talk.”

“Bruce might get jealous.” Steve joked, extracting himself from the tight spot.

“You know, that is something I would actually kind of like to see.”

Even with Steve’s stressing about being late, and the brief stop on the way down to the pitch, they were still far from the last of the team to arrive, although Hammer still glared at Tony for having the cheek to not arrive four hours early with an enormous wheel out whiteboard filled with gameplay tactics, while disregarding the fact that he regularly shows up thirty seconds before they start without matching boots.

Everything was going smoothly until Danvers had the smart idea of mixing the first and second teams up and having them play against each other. Tony led one team, and Hammer the other, and while they were trying to promote friendly competition and prepare everyone for the upcoming Aequitas game, all that it created was more and more tension between Justin and Tony.

And to make everything even more fantastic, Tony was starting to feel faint again.

“You know, Stark…” Hammer muttered as they passed on the field. “This is the one thing money can’t buy you. Talent.”

Tony easily took the ball from under Hammer’s feet, and grinned. “You know, Hammer… I think I’m gonna be okay on that front.” Before Justin had even realised what had just happened, Tony had put the ball in the back of the net on the other side of the pitch. Even from there, Tony could see Ms. Danvers yelling at the other captain from the side lines. He felt a sense of satisfaction, and couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. It wasn’t like Tony _tried_ to make an enemy out of Justin Hammer; he just found the guy a total pain in the ass with how he was constantly trying to get one up over everyone.

The next time the two co-captains came into contact, Tony felt a wide hand push forward between his shoulder blades as a foot appeared right underneath his, sending him sprawling on the grass. And just for good measure, a studded boot managed to accidentally, of course, catch three fingers on his left hand. Tony hissed in pain. Friendly competition was one thing, but this was going too far.

“Tony? You okay?” Steve said, hovering over him. “Did Hammer just-”

“Yep.” He groaned, rolling on to his back. “It’s fine- I’m fine.” He pulled himself to his feet with a hand from Steve, only wincing slightly as he put weight down on his ankle. Steve looked like he was going to protest, but Tony silenced him. “Steve, I’m fine. I can walk it off.” Steve was obviously concerned, but he let it slide, although Tony swore he could feel his eyes on him for the rest of the practise.

“The fuck was that for?” Tony snapped at Justin. “Even if you hate me, can you at least try not to kill me for the benefit of the team? We need to win this game next week or we are fucked. Can you leave this stupid battle until after we crush Aequitas?”

Justin smirked. “What was what for? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stark.” And with that, he sent a smooth pass down to one of his other players, who tapped it in easily, as their main defender was storming towards the two of them in the middle.

“Hammer, what the fuck are you playing at? Pulling a stunt like that in a game could get the entire team thrown out of the league.” Steve said angrily. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to you, but I know quite a few other people who actually not only _care_ about where we come but rely on it for college scholarship places. If you want to be a dick about co-captaining with Tony, go and complain to Danvers- _don’t_ take it out on him, and don’t you even _think_ about taking it out on the team.”

Justin sneered at the blond boy for a moment, before spitting at his feet. Steve’s jaw dropped, affronted, but Tony took a more direct approach. For the second time so far this year, Tony’s fist collided with the side of Hammer’s face. “You dirty-”, he followed it with a knee in the gut, “stinking-”, another punch , “fucker.” He shoved him backwards hard, making him topple backwards into a fantastically well positioned patch of wet mud.

His chest felt like it was about to burst in two, his heart beating erratically as he gasped for breath, but he forced himself not to think about it.

“Stark! Rogers! Hammer! What on _Earth_ do you think you are playing at?” Ms. Danvers screamed, sprinting over to where Hammer lay sprawled in the dirt, Tony hovering over him, his fists still raised and Steve looked on it horror. “All three of you, with me. Now.”

With both Hammer and Tony limping, it took longer than necessary to reach the main building, and then, Fury’s office. Tony groaned under his breath. “If you three get kicked off my team, or banned for this next game, you have no _idea_ the personal hell I am going to put you through.” Danvers warned, and Stark pulled a face. He had a rough idea, actually, and it wasn’t exactly anything that he particularly relished the thought of.

“You _again_ , Stark?” Fury remarked as he let them in. “Hammer. And…”

“Rogers, sir. Steve Rogers.” He mumbled. Tony only just held in a snort. How was it in all the time he had attended the school, he hadn’t made it to the principal’s office once?

“Physical violence in the middle of a soccer game, Nick.” Ms. Danvers supplied, and Fury nodded slowly.

“Did Mr Stark swing before or after Mr Hammer presumably threw him over and trod on his hand?” He said, bored. Tony blinked. He hadn’t even realised the injury was visible, and certainly didn’t expect the head to pick up on it. The look on Justin’s face said it all. “And Mr Rogers? Your involvement?” He asked tiredly, and Steve stammered a little.

“Uh… I just saw it. Hammer- he tripped Tony deliberately then stomped on him.” He supplied nervously.

“Rogers, you can go. Carol, boys getting into fights on the sports field isn’t my greatest concern in life- thank you for reporting it but I’ll let you decide your own punishments.”

She nodded briskly and shepherded the three of them outside again. “Stark, Hammer, I will see you on the athletics track three times a week until Easter. Fifteen laps each time. Every session you miss, I will add on five more laps. No exceptions.” Justin swore loudly, and Ms. Danvers’ eyes narrowed.

“Hammer, you are now up to twenty already. Don’t you even think about pushing me any further because I will have you running that circuit until you throw up, every week until you have graduated. Do I make myself clear?” Apparently, she had, as no-one uttered another word, and she dismissed the three of them unceremoniously.

Steve helped Tony hobble up the three flights of stairs back to their corridor, and promised to go and pick up his clothes from the sports changing rooms. “Tony, if I were you, I’d take a shower before you go in there.” Steve advised, wrinkling his nose as Tony went to push the door open. “I’d help you in, but there’s a line somewhere and I’m not planning to cross it.”

*

Judging by the expression on Bruce’s face when he pushed the door open, he wasn’t exactly expecting a half-naked, clad in just a towel from the waist down Tony to stagger awkwardly into the room. “Are you- er, are you wearing anything under that?” He asked sheepishly, his cheeks flushing.

“Underwear, Brucey, don’t get carried away.” Tony joked. “My kit got left down on the field due to reasons I’m not planning to go into right now and I didn’t want to drip mud all over the floor.” He explained, very, very interested by Bruce’s blush, and by the fact that his super shy, super dorky boyfriend just got up from his bed and made his way towards him. “Uh, Bruce?” He said uncertainly.

“You look really fucking hot.” Bruce whispered, as if embarrassed to admit to such a thought. His hands rested on Tony’s hips where the roughly folded towel hung precariously. Tony gulped. “Can I?” Bruce’s eyes met his and oh _God_ how could he refuse that expression. He jerked his head, and Bruce let the towel fall to the floor.

“What would you have done if I was naked under that?” Tony grinned, feeling kind of self-conscious at how Bruce was just _looking_ at him.

“Died of embarrassment, most likely.” Bruce joked. His finger traced a rivulet of water running from Tony’s shoulder to his hip bone, and Tony gasped lightly. “Did you lock the door?” Bruce asked suddenly, and Tony darted back to turn the key in the lock. If this ended up going where he thought it might be going, locking the door would probably be a wise move. Unless Clint came calling, of course. No amount of security could keep that kid out.

“So am I just going to stand here, basically nude, while you just ogle my hot bod, or are you planning to lose the sweats and some point and join me in the liberated land of Just Underwear?” He laughed, making Bruce blush even deeper. “Was that a bad line?”

Bruce pulled his t-shirt over his head. Tony tried desperately not to look at the bruises. “The line was fine.” He replied, and dropped his pants, stepping out of them neatly and kicking them aside. “This feels weird. Why does this feel weird? You’ve seen me in my underwear before.”

Tony took Bruce’s face in both hands, pulled him closer and kissed him firmly on the mouth, before bringing both of them toppling down on to his bed, Bruce on top of him. “It’s not _weird_.” He whispered into Bruce’s ear, making the other boy giggle at the sensation. “It’s _sexy_.”

“That was the corniest line I have ever heard uttered.”

Tony silenced his complaints by capturing his mouth messily, and received a deep moan from Bruce, rippling through the kiss. Tony’s fingers gripped Bruce’s waist tightly- probably too tightly, but the other boy wasn’t complaining. Bruce didn’t even stammer or blush at the fact that both of them were hard, and it was _obvious_ \- previously, he’d have pulled away by now.

“You o-okay?” Tony asked. He wasn’t used to such an eager Bruce, and the sudden change of heart regarding their ‘physical intimacy’ made him worry that Bruce felt pressured into going further than he wanted to.

“Do I _look_ okay?” He smirked, and rolled his hips down firmly, the friction making both of their cocks jump to attention.  “How about _you_ , Tony? Are _you_ \- fuck- okay?”

Tony let out a perfectly obscene moan as his hips thrust upwards involuntarily. “N-Not really, _shit_. I need to- _fuck I swear I usually have more self-restraint than this._ ” He blurted as he forced himself to resist the temptation to grab Bruce’s ass, hold the boy against him and grind one out on his thigh.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Bruce said smoothly, pressing his lips against Tony’s neck. Tony whimpered and the word “Please…” escaped his lips. Bruce looked at him doubtfully. “You want me to put a hickey on your neck?” Tony nodded, not exactly thinking about the consequences. Bruce apparently wasn’t either.

For someone who had given few, if any, hickeys before in his life, Bruce was exceptionally good at them. He managed to avoid the beginner’s mistake of biting too hard, his mouth firm and insistent but still somehow tender. A selection of kind of embarrassing moans, curses and whimpers escaped from his mouth as Bruce marked him, while still managing to keep a steady rhythm of rocking their cocks together, which was starting to drive Tony crazy. “Bruce, _fuck,_ I need to…”

The other boy tensed above him and had to bite down on his knuckles to stop himself screaming out as he shuddered through what looked like a really great orgasm, before collapsing bonelessly on Tony, panting slightly. With no room or patience to do anything else, Tony awkwardly stuck his hand between their two bodies, shoved it into his boxers and grabbed his dick, only jerking it a few times before his back arched, almost throwing Bruce on to the floor in the process, and he came.

“That was the first time I’ve came in my underwear in a really fucking long time.” Tony said, once they’d both recovered.

“I can safely say me too.” Bruce said, still lying across Tony’s chest. He looked up at the slightly disgusted face Tony was pulling from the sensation of stickiness rapidly cooling on his dick, and burst out laughing. “I promise you that wasn’t planned.”

Tony shrugged, grabbing a tissue from the table to wipe his hand clean. “Spontaneous sex attacks are never not welcome, Bruce. If I can ask though, what changed your mind? Barely two weeks ago you were freaking out because you woke up with a boner and now, it’s like…”

Bruce shrugged. “I guess I thought about it, and came to the conclusion that hey, we’re young, and you’re only young once. We’re in a pretty steady relationship, and we have been for almost three months, which is pretty impressive for high schoolers, and teenage boys have needs, you know? I mean, I’m not ready to, uh, have… you know…”

“Sex?” Tony supplied helpfully, grinning.

“Right.” Bruce agreed. “I’m not ready to have… sex, not quite yet, but… maybe soon? Besides, what’s the harm in fooling around a little bit?”

Tony tried not to make his reaction at the prospect of going _further_ with Bruce obvious. He was pretty sure he failed. “None at all. Although… Did you give me a hickey?” Tony asked, rubbing the side of his neck. “Banner, I thought you were meant to be the sensible one.”

“You insisted, Stark. And besides, I was drunk on sex and lo- lust.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Oh well. It’s not the first time.”

“Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me.” Bruce remarked. “I kinda feel disgusting right now. Shower?”

Tony grimaced, and nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten chapters later, you'd have thought I'd have memorised this html coding by now. Sigh.
> 
> *googles the html code for hyperlinks*
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://alpha-lahey.tumblr.com)! See, it was so worth it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This every other week thing sucks I'm really sorry. But here we are, another every other Saturday and another chapter! It's time for the big game, a chapter full of cameos from your favourite (or not) DC heroes.

“Nervous?”

“Funnily enough, yeah, I am.” Tony said sarcastically, so on edge that he was hardly able to sit still, let alone manage to control his attitude.

“You’ll be great, I know it.” Bruce smiled reassuringly. Tony knew he was just trying to show him some support, but he couldn’t help retorting sarcastically.

“Since you’ve never seen me do so much as kick a ball, don’t mind if your attempt at comforting me isn’t making me feel an awful lot better.”

They were at lunch, the match was at three, and Tony had been in a terrible mood all day. He didn’t mean to take it out on Bruce. They’d managed to catch a glimpse of Aequitas’ warm up and late minute training session that morning, and even Tony had to admit that that Wayne kid had a gift that nobody on their team, not even him, could hope to match. All eyes had turned to him for guidance, much to Justin’s disgust, and the pressure was beginning to freak Tony out.

By that time, Steve had sat down, clutching a nutritious pre-game lunch of a small bunch of grapes and a packet of Reese’s Pieces, and was looking positively green. Tony might be at risk of losing the game for the team, but it was Steve who was actually the last line of defence between Bruce Wayne and the goal.

Tony sent Steve what was meant to be a reassuring smile but turned out more like a grimace, which he couldn’t even return. Even once Clint and Thor had arrived and sat down chatting obliviously about nonsense, the tense atmosphere hadn’t really reduced much.

“Seriously, you guys are going to be fine.” Bruce said in one final last ditch attempt to encourage Tony. “And I’ve heard rumours of a post-game celebration party going down later, but don’t let anyone know that I told you.” He added in a stage whisper, trying to lighten the mood, but Tony just smiled weakly and returned to glaring at his lunch.

He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, and people on different tables kept turning around and sending him worried glances. No-one gave a crap about soccer, not really even the people on the team, until the Erskine vs. Aequitas game came around, then the entire school poured out to watch their rival school get crushed. Losing really wasn’t an option.

Tony, fed up of the motivational pep talks, the looks and the pats on the back, stood up, and Steve followed, despite the fact the game didn’t start for almost another hour. “I can’t stay in here any longer.” He said quietly to Bruce. “See you at the game, yeah?”

Bruce nodded, and Steve and Tony left the cafeteria, the level of noise in the room dropping to almost nothing. “We won last year.” Steve said quietly.

“We were better last year. Loads of our best players graduated, but they got way better.” Tony shook his head. “No, we are well and truly fucked. We’re not going to win.”

Steve tugged him to a standstill. “Stark, shut up.” He said firmly. “If you have that kind of attitude, we have absolutely no chance. We’re just as good as them. Yeah, fine, they have one really unbelievable player, but we have eleven great ones. Stop getting so hung up over Bruce fucking Wayne.”

*

They were drawing one all, there were only five minutes left to go,  and to be perfectly honest, if it wasn’t for the fact that Steve was on fantastic form, stopping almost every ball that came anywhere near him, it could have been fifty – one. Tony had a concentrated grimace on his face, and Wayne shot Tony a cocky smirk every time they passed, even though it didn’t look like anyone was going to win. Hammer just looked relieved that they hadn’t got flattened, even if he hadn’t even remotely contributed to their one and only goal.

Bruce was standing on the side lines with Thor and Clint and had actually got quite enthusiastic by the end of the game, cheering Tony on and also looking pretty relieved that Erskine managed to keep up even if it hadn’t been the glorious victory they hoped for.

“Got a fan over there, Stark?” Wayne sneered, looking over at Bruce during a lull in play as one of the Aequitas players was carried off after a mistimed sliding tackle resulted in a potentially broken ankle.

“Bruce Wayne I love you!” A cry from the other side of the field made Tony snort. “Could say the same about you, Wayne. At least my fans look older than eight.”

“Grayson is sixteen.” The other boy said through gritted teeth. “And far more mature than you will ever be.”

Danvers blew the whistle to resume play. Both sides had got so desperate that everyone had descended into violent, illegal tactics. Just trying to avoid the limbs flying in all directions was sapping the last of Tony’s energy, as the horribly familiar sensation of his chest constricting began to kick in again.

“So who is he?” Wayne smirked, as he sauntered past Tony, who was being marked so closely by some kid called Allen he could barely move. “Your boyfriend?”

“He’s my roommate.” Tony spat angrily, trying to keep himself under control. “And a friend.” He attempted to shake the opposing defender by making a sharp sprint into a clear space, which actually, surprisingly, worked long enough for him to take control of the ball. Until an ankle stuck out under his foot and sent him sprawling into the grass. Tony swore loudly and had to remind himself that attacking their competition wouldn’t look good on the team at all as he looked up and saw Wayne sent him a brief smirk before-

“Foul?” He screeched angrily, as Danvers blew her whistle once more and called it. “He fucking tripped over his own feet! It’s not our fault he’s incapable of running in a straight line without falling over!”

Danvers ignored him and Hammer took the free kick, despite Tony’s- and everyone else’s- suggestions that he should take it, and the ball flew over the cross bar by about three feet. Tony groaned; the game was essentially over, and while it could have been much worse, it also could have gone better.

“It’s okay, Stark. I’m sure your little boyfriend will still let you suck his cock, even if you’re shit at soccer.” He taunted under his breath. “Although, I bet you’re shit at that too, aren’t you, Stark? You can’t even satisfy a fucking nerd like him.”

Stay calm… Tony said to himself firmly. He just wants a reaction. Don’t give him the satisfaction of responding.

“Did he give you that hickey, Stark?” Every time he said his name like that, it felt like a bullet hitting him in the gut. Tony couldn’t help but think back to a few nights ago, when Bruce had surprised him with hands and mouths roaming all over the place, and he ground his teeth. “I bet you’re the bottom, aren’t you, Stark? I bet you just love to beg for it, don’t-”

Wayne didn’t get a chance to utter another word, as he suddenly found himself sprawled on the muddy field with bloody nose, and Tony hovering over him, shaking with anger. Danvers, as usual, was over in an instant.

“What on Earth is going on over here?” She roared, and Tony flinched.

“He fucking punched me in the face, that’s what’s fucking going on. That faggot is fucking psychotic!” Wayne spat.

Tony knew he was in some seriously deep shit, and was therefore not at all surprised when his coach held up a red card in front of his face. He was somewhat more surprised by her holding it up to Wayne too. “For repeated use of unnecessary bad language and homophobia.” She offered in way of an explanation. Looking quickly around the vicinity, she called Coulson over from the sidelines. “Phil, could you keep these two separated and supervised for the rest of the day, please? I will deal with them later.”

*

There was a knock on Tony’s door and Steve came in, not even waiting for a response. He had clearly just come straight from the field as he was still covered in mud. Tony noticed a small limp. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” He said brightly, taking Tony by surprise.

“The bad news is we lost, I’m guessing.” Tony said flatly. “What’s the good news? Did Bruce Wayne die?”

“One, Tony, you can’t say stuff like that. He just has a suspected broken nose. Two… Uh… We won. That was the good news.” Steve said, taking a seat on the edge of Bruce’s bed. “That Kent guy, their centre forward, thought it would be a good idea to slide tackle into my ankle in injury time, and Wade scored the penalty. They were furious.” Tony grinned. It may have possibly been the most violent game ever played in high school soccer league history, but they won, and that’s all that counted.

“I guess Hammer didn’t want to shoulder the responsibility of losing the game when he invariably missed.” He was especially happy that Wilson had taken it- he was a sophomore, and new to the team this year, and Tony had high hopes for him. “Okay, so if we won, what was the bad news?” He asked, sighing as he realised he couldn’t ignore the consequences of his actions any longer. “I mean, how much worse can it get? I’ve already got a five match suspension and Danvers is threatening to remove my captaincy.”

“To be fair, I’ve seen people get full season bans for less- you only got off so lightly because she could prove he was harassing you.” Steve said helpfully, and spotted the question in Tony’s expression before he got a chance to ask it. “That defender who was on your tail all game- that Barry Allen guy- told Ms. Danvers that Wayne had been harassing you and making homophobic comments, so you’re not getting done for an unprovoked attack.”

Tony snorted. “Not sticking up for their precious new star player? Obviously Wayne’s not as popular as he likes to think he is.” He makes a mental note to thank the other player if he sees him before they go back to Detroit. He seemed like a cool guy. Ran crazy fast. “Okay, so what actually is the bad news?”

Steve bit his lip nervously. Tony noticed he couldn’t keep still, and kept fiddling with his hands in his lap. He urged the other boy to just spit it out and get it over with. “Um… Well… I mean, it’s just a rumour, and you know how rumours in this school spread like wildfire. It got around really fast that you punched Bruce Wayne because he said something homophobic. And uh… Everyone has got it into their heads that you are… not entirely heterosexual.”

In all honesty, Tony had been so wrapped up in the game that he hadn’t even considered what the implications of him rising to Wayne’s words might be. And then he wondered how he could have been so stupid. “What’s everyone saying? Has anyone said anything about Bruce?”

“N-No, I don’t… What?” Steve frowned, looking more confused that Tony had ever seen him in his life. “Tony… People think… People are whispering that you’re gay.”

Tony jumped to his feet and started pacing across the small dorm room, a nervous habit he’d never been able to shake since his childhood hatred of having to keep still when his mother hid him from an alcoholic Howard. “Steve, I could not give a fuck about that. I am gay, or like, bisexual, I guess. I don’t care what people have to say about that, as long as no-one is dumb enough to mention it to Howard. We’re living in a liberated age, Rogers. Funnily enough, the majority of people, especially in this corner of the world, don’t give a fuck who you l- who you are attracted to. I just don’t want people speculating about shit that isn’t any of their business.”

Steve baulked. “I… I haven’t heard anything, Tony, I don’t know. I just wanted to tell you so you were… prepared.”

“Prepared for what, though…” Tony sighed, and Steve couldn’t think of anything to say, so just sat on Bruce’s side of the room awkwardly. “Thanks… For telling me. I appreciate it.” Tony said eventually, having worn his feet and his head out from pacing and collapsed on to his bed. “But we won, huh? Tell me someone on our side got MVP?”

Steve looked down at his feet. “Uh, yeah, I did.”

Tony nodded, partially to himself and partly to Steve. “Yeah, you deserved it.” He said. “Now, I recall something being said about a post-match after party?” Steve tutted at him, but overall, it could have been much, much worse, so Tony was in no state to sit around and mope all evening. “Tell me Barton’s got some alcohol somewhere? I need a drink.”

Steve shrugged. “Our room is generally more of a brewery than a bedroom. He was talking of setting up a distillation plant in there the other week, until I reminded him that that would be incredibly illegal even if he wasn’t still a minor.” Tony snorted, and stood up to start rummaging through his wardrobe for something vaguely clean and not crumpled to wear. “I’m sure the party will start whenever you blast the first Metallica song into the corridor, Tony, so I’m going to go and change into something that isn’t sweats.”

“Right, okay, I won’t be long. Have you seen Banner?” He asked, just as Steve was leaving the room. “He never came back up after the game...”

Steve shook his head, frowning. “I think he went to the library or something. I saw him heading back towards the school building. He’ll show up soon, I bet.”

Tony nodded. He knew exactly where Bruce was, but it wasn’t the library. “I’m gonna go get him- he wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun. Tell Clint I’ll be fifteen minutes.”

He hurried over to the school building and trudged up all four flights of stairs to the top floor laboratory, and punched in the code. “Bruce? You in here? Did seeing me running around getting all sweaty give you a flash of genius?” He didn’t get a reply. “Bruce?” He yelled a bit louder. “Banner!” He made a mental note to programme JARVIS into the lab- locating people was one of his specialities, normally used only for making sure Howard wasn’t going to walk in when he was trying to have some alone time. “Bruce!”

“Jesus, Tony, there’s no need to shout.” Tony span around to see Bruce smirking behind him. “Well done on the game today. You played great, but I’ve got to say the highlight was definitely seeing that tosspot Wayne on the floor with a bloody face.”

“Definitely worth a five match suspension, that’s for sure.” Tony agreed. “Can’t decide if it was worth losing my captaincy and allowing MC Dickface to control the team, but that remains to be seen.”

“What did he say to... provoke you?” Bruce asked suddenly sounding nervous. “People have been saying he... um... said something homophobic to you.”

“Yeah, and he was really starting to piss me off. Hammer came up and gave me a lecture about lowering myself to his level and giving him what he wanted, but hey, I got what I wanted too. Him not harassing me.”

“People are also latching on to that and using it as proof that you’re gay.” He said. That was something Tony really loved about Bruce. He didn’t mince his words. “In case Steve or whoever was too sensitive to tell you that.”

“No, I... I heard that one.” Tony said.

“Are you... Okay?”

“Yeah, I mean... it’s a rumour, for one. And it’s true, or at least partially true. And I don’t really care what people think, so long as no-one is stupid enough to tell Howard, which is pretty unlikely.” Tony reasoned. “Anyway, was I interrupting something science-y?”

“Not really, no.”

“Good, because I’m not letting you get out of that ‘We Kicked Aequitas’ Ass’ party. Even Coulson’s gonna  come. Or at least not shut us down at curfew. I won’t even try to make you drink.”

Bruce laughed. “What would have happened if we hadn’t have won? ‘We Got Our Butts Kicked By Aequitas Institute But Never Mind’? Of course I’m coming. Someone needs to make sure you don’t choke and die on your own vomit, after all.” Tony just pretended he didn’t hear that last part. “But seriously, please don’t drink too much because I will not hold your hair back if you spend the entire night puking.”

“Okay, deal.” Tony grinned. “Let’s get this party started!”

*

The party got started all right, and not just on the third floor. Even with the doors to every room thrown open and people crowded in every available space, there just wasn’t room for everyone that had shown up, and the party spilled down to the second floor, much to the annoyance of the girls still in their rooms having opted out of joining the party upstairs.

Tony, however, as the life and soul of the party, was sat on the floor in the centre of the corridor with a tacky plastic cup in one hand, swaying to his own music, oblivious to everyone and everything around him. That apparently included a rather exasperated Bruce, who was trying desperately to wrestle the cup from his grasp. “You’ve had enough Stark, come on.” He said, trying and failing to be patient. “Tony... Tony, stop it.”

“Hey... Hey, Bruce... Come sit with me.” He slurred, a grin plastered on his face. Bruce sighed, and managed to find space to sit down in the crowded corridor. “You look really pretty tonight, you know?” Tony said, proud of the fact he managed to string together a coherent sentence in his current state of inebriation.

“Tony, you ass.” Bruce hissed, slapping his wandering hand away unforgivingly. “Stop trying to grope me!”

Tony went to take another swig from the cup in his hand but he’d already draining it. He stared and the empty in confusion, before holding it out to Bruce hopefully. “No!” Bruce said, clearly rather exasperated by this point. “You are pissed off your face as it is, and I really don’t think today of all days is the best time to lose control and try and make out with me in public. Not even you can brush that off without people talking.”

Tony blinked, still looking confused as he had tuned out of Bruce’s lecture mid-way through to concentrate his efforts on forcing the plastic cup into his friend’s palm. Bruce sighed, and dropped the cup into the makeshift (and already overflowing) bin.

“But Bruuuuuuuuce…” Tony slurred, pouting a little and trying his almost 100% effective kicked puppy look. “I’ve only had, uh… One. Three. Uh, six? I can handle it!”

Bruce looked at him in disbelief. “Tony, you promised me that you wouldn’t drink too mu—”

“Let’s play Spin The Bottle!” Clint yelled, giggling, even more drunken than Tony himself was. Tony cheered, much to Bruce’s distress, and within seconds, Clint, Thor, Steve, Pepper, Darcy, Natasha and to Steve’s delight, Peggy Carter, who had been dragged along by a friend then promptly ditched, had joined Tony on the floor. “Banner, sit down.” Barton demanded petulantly. Bruce sniggered, but did as he was told.

“I always knew you wanted to kiss me, Clint.” Bruce said dryly, but his humour was not appreciated by the increasingly inebriated circle.

Spin The Bottle was one of those party games that never turned out to be a good idea, but at least everyone was plastered enough that they most likely wouldn’t remember who they’d kissed by the time they’d woken up. Thor went first, the last drops of beer splashing out on to the carpet. Apparently finding an empty bottle was too complicated. Tony and Clint provided a dramatic soundtrack of ‘ooh’ing noises as the recklessly spinning bottle slowed and eventually stopped- on Darcy.

Tony grinned blissfully as the younger girl smirked. The object of the majority of the female population of Erskine Academy’s muscle related sexual fantasies leant across the circle to press his lips awkwardly against the corner of her mouth. It seemed the alcohol was taking its toll even on Thor, who could notoriously hold huge quantities of booze without feeling remotely tipsy.

He readjusted his misplaced kiss and eventually pulled away, leaving the other players whooping enthusiastically, and Darcy unashamedly licking her lips.

Pepper went next, and rolled Natasha, much to Clint’s drunken delight, as the two rather experienced girls showed everyone else just what they were missing out on. Darcy span Steve, who blushed furiously, but proceeded to face the challenge valiantly.

The game changed when Barton’s actually did land on Bruce. “Nope.” The only sober person left in the corridor protested vehemently. “I’m not kissing him!”

“He’s a g-good kisser.” Natasha supplied helpfully. “Come on, Bruce, don’t ruin the game.” Tony sniggered at Bruce’s face as she switched on her most dangerous sugar sweet voice- or at least, a slurred imitation of it; he knew Bruce had no choice now.

“Oh god, fine.” Bruce groaned, and gestured for Clint to get it over with as quickly as possible. Tony didn’t know if it was the alcohol in his system, but for some reason, the idea of the two of them kissing made his mouth dry and his dick jerk uncomfortably in his pants.

Bruce had his eyes screwed up, grimacing as Barton blew stale alcohol breath in his face, but he kept his mouth tightly pursed, even as Clint’s lips brushed his.

“Banner, if you’re not going to do this properly…” Clint said indignantly. “I will take my expertise elsewhere and find someone else who will appreciate my talents!”

Bruce looked about ready to take that offer and leave, so Tony intervened. “Also, I’ll kick your ass.” Bruce glowered at him, clearly not appreciating the contribution, but relented.

Oh my god that’s hotter than it should be, Tony thought as his two friends made contact. Clint, the classic example of someone who thought he was God’s Gift to everyone even when sober, was an incorrigible drunk, and didn’t hesitate before taking handfuls of Bruce’s curls and holding the other boy close to him.

Bruce spluttered a little and, using his one advantage of sobriety, pushed Clint away firmly just before he managed to introduce his tongue into the scenario. “That was…” Bruce started, flushing a deep red as the remaining members of the circle whooped enthusiastically. “Okay, Barton is a fair kisser, I’ll give him that. Even if the background taste of cheap alcohol and smoke was kind of unpleasant.” Tony caught Bruce’s eye for a second or two, and shot him a knowing smirk. There was no question as to whether Bruce knew the effect he’d had on his boyfriend; Tony had had to shrug off his shirt and bundle it strategically in his lap to avoid embarrassment.

“Is it my go yet?” He asked quickly to distract himself from Bruce and the situation currently forming in his pants. He grabbed the bottle anyway and span it, watching anxiously as it went that it wouldn’t land on Clint again- he didn’t have the strength that Bruce had, and he wasn’t sure his stomach would be able to handle tongue to tongue contact.

It landed on Steve. “C’mere, Stevie…” Tony said, an honest to God giggle escaping his lips. “Gonna rock your world.”

Steve leant over Bruce, who looked at them in a mixture of disbelief and slight repulsion- a bit rich after his show just seconds before. Tony was determined to get his revenge and couldn’t resist making eye contact with his boyfriend as he moaned exaggeratedly into Steve’s mouth as their lips touched.

Bruce tried to keep a neutral expression, like he didn’t give a damn about the truly filthy display of drunken affection going on literally all around him as loose limbs flailed dangerously close to his face. Tony shot a brief grin over Steve’s shoulder, enjoying the thinly disguised grimace creeping on to Bruce’s face as he lowered his mouth to the side of Steve’s neck. Steve gasped suddenly as Tony bit down on the skin firmly and began to suck.

“Guys, _please_ stop.”

The entire circle, it seemed, thanked Pepper for her timely intervention, particularly Bruce, if the way his entire body relaxed dramatically as Steve resituated himself the other side of Bruce was any indication. The show was truly horrendous to watch, and everyone hoped that they would never have to witness Tony putting his mark on Perfect Prince Steve Rogers’ pale, flawless skin again in their life. Steve, at least, had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, whereas Tony just felt incredibly pleased with himself.

“Banner, it’s your turn.” Peggy grinned. A high pitched squeak escaped from Bruce’s mouth, and the entire circle looked at him in amusement.

“Oh, no. No way. Nope.” Bruce said, shaking his head.

“You’ve already made out with Barton.” Tony pointed out, a smug grin on his face. “It’s not like it can get much worse than that.”

“Oh, you wanna bet?” He challenged, rolling his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, fine.” He gave in, knowing he wasn’t going to win an argument with a circle of drunken teenagers. He span, not really caring where it landed – it wasn’t like anyone would remember it in the morning anyway. “… Oh.” He said blankly.

It stopped on Tony.

Really, this should have been the best outcome, but after Tony’s antics on the pitch earlier that day, he wasn’t exactly keen on giving anyone any ammunition against his boyfriend. “Bruuuuce.” Tony crowed, leaning forward with a grin on his face. “Kissy kissy!”

“Tony…” He said hesitantly. He wasn’t able to get any more words out, however, as Tony’s lips crashed against his. It was a parody of their usual exchanges, and Bruce could taste the alcohol in his mouth. He pushed Tony off as soon as possible, glaring at him meaningfully, which of course went straight over his drunken head.

“You’re so good at that, Brucey…” Tony said obliviously, a blissful stupor clearly overcoming things like rational behaviour and common sense. Bruce wanted to bang his head against the wall.

“I think that’s enough, Tony.” He said flatly, standing up and pulling his friend up with him. “Bed time, come on.”

Tony whined but followed anyway, dragging his heels.

And in the corner, unseen by anyone, stood Loki, a grin on his face and a photograph saved on his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dundunduuuuuuun
> 
> Progress on this has been kind of slow this week because I got distracted finishing yet another unfinished Stanner fic. But I did actually finish it and post it and everything, and you can totally read this10k of smutty Stanner goodness [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2156115).
> 
> As always, find me on tumblr [here](http://isaac-laehey.tumblr.com).
> 
> Until next time, amigos.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S THAT TIME AGAIN AND I TOTALLY REMEMBERED JUST ABOUT
> 
> This chapter is mega important because not even Moby has read this okay this is 100% unseen fic (unless you're me but)
> 
> Enjoy!

By the time Tony woke up the next morning, with a pounding head and an evening of his life missing from his memories, the photograph had been slipped under every dorm room on their floor, and every other floor in the building.

“Well, that’s awkward.” He said under his breath. Bruce looked up at him questioningly. “What the hell actually happened last night?” Tony had kind of got used to having to get the details of many parties from the other people that were there, but the slightly disgusted look on Bruce’s face reminded him that his boyfriend didn’t exactly know that.

“Well,” Bruce said, concern in his voice. “You got mightily smashed despite my best advice, proceeded to suggest a game of Spin The Bottle, urged me to make out with Clint Barton, gave Steve a hickey, and then attacked my face. You seriously remember none of that?”

“Huh.”  Tony responded, considering this for a moment. “So, just a pretty standard night then.”

“Standard? Tony, you literally don’t remember any of it. How drunk were you? How often does this happen?” He wasn’t even angry. Tony was expecting angry. He wasn’t expecting this amount of genuine concern.

For both of their sakes, he told a tiny white lie. “Not very.” Bruce didn’t look particularly convinced, but he didn’t push it. “Oh well, at least I got a souvenir of this one.”

“Wait. What?” Tony handed the picture over, and Bruce went pale. “Tony, this is serious.” He said finally, after a good minute’s contemplation.

Tony looked at him in disbelief before laughing hysterically. “Banner, if you knew how many pictures existed of me making out with people, you’d understand.”

“And how many of those are of you making out with your roommate after the entire school saw you punch someone in the face for being homophobic?”

Tony’s grin slid off his face. “… Oh. Yeah. Fuck.”

“Tony!” A voice yelled from the corridor, ferocious pummelling making them both jump. “Stark, open this door right now!” He yanked the door open to find that it was Rogers, and even he looked freaked. “This is not good.” He said, waving a photograph identical to the one Bruce now had clutched in his fist. Tony rolled his eyes at Steve’s totally valueless addition to the conversation. “Who the hell would have done something like this?”

“Loki.” Tony said pointedly, at the exact same instant that Bruce bitterly spat, ‘Luke.’ “But it could be worse, I mean, at least he won’t have shown this to Coulson or Fury yet.” Tony could only take comfort in this fact but even he knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Surely that’s exactly what he’d do! I mean, he does hate you.”

Tony shrugged. “When life gives you lemons, do your best to blackmail people with them.”

He managed to persuade Steve that he really didn’t need a security detail to go and speak to Loki, and even convinced Bruce that it would be better if he went alone. So it was by himself that he banged on Thor and Loki’s door until the sly, rat faced boy opened it, looking exceedingly pleased with himself. “I thought I’d be seeing you this morning, Stark. Come on in.”

It took every ounce of his self control to not tear Loki’s smug little head off. Hell, it was only for Thor’s benefit that he didn’t, waiting until he picked up on Tony’s planet sized hints for him to leave before throwing Loki against the wall with a snarl.

“You know, I always did think you had a thing for me.” Loki joked, his smirking face full of malice. Tony hated to admit it, but Loki held all the cards. That didn’t stop him pushing his arm closer to the wall, trapping Loki by the throat. The younger boy was breathless and wary, but not scared. If he was going to be honest, Tony would say he looked positively pleased with himself, despite being forced on to the balls of his feet to avoid a crushed windpipe.

“What’s your play, Loki?” Tony growled, his heart pumping with adrenalin.

"Now, what makes you think I had anything to do with this?"

"Stop with the innocent crap, I know it was you. What do you want from me?"

"Nothing." Loki said with an infuriatingly casual air. Tony faltered, his hand loosening for a second on the boy's throat. Loki took advantage with a surprising display of strength and used Tony's weight against him - a fraction of a second later, Tony found himself sprawled on the floor, a smug face leering over him. "What exactly would I want from you?" Tony tried to keep his foot in view as Loki lowered it closer and closer to his neck. "You thought I'd try something as pathetic as blackmail? Oh Stark, you are getting slow."

Tony was struggling for breath, windpipe restricted by a heavy black boot pressing against his throat. "Then what-"

"I just told everyone, Stark. Told the whole school. Told Fury. A copy may even have found its way into your father's in tray." Tony spluttered, hardly able to form words. He could feel his heart beating erratically, his vision starting to go out of focus as the all too familiar feeling threatened to overwhelm him.

"L-Luke, I..."

"So I'm Luke now? The leopard doesn't change its spots, Stark. Stick with Loki. Besides, it's starting to grow on me." He laughed, but there was no hint of humour or warmth in it. It was cold, bitter… angry, and certainly the first time that Tony had actually been intimidated by his stupid threats. "It'll be a shame, you not being around any more. It's been fun, Tony, but all good things must come to an end."

There was a brief moment after that rather morbid statement where Tony thought Loki might actually be trying to kill him, until the door swung open.

"Luke, what the hell do you think you are doing?"

Tony gasped for breath as Loki stepped back hurriedly, unable to control the tears glazing his eyes, threatening to fall. Thor yanked Loki off him by the scruff of the neck, his feet dangling several inches from the ground. “Trying to...” Tony attempted to spit out before choking, his throat constricted and raw. “To kill me, that’s what!”

Loki smirked; even from half a foot in the air, he managed to seem like he had total control of the situation. “Kill you, Stark? Why would I want you dead? Where would I get my fun from?” Thor dropped him on to his bed in a heap, looking truly terrifying as he towered over him.

“Are you the one responsible for these photographs?”

Loki just smirked his smug grin again, flicking his eyebrows arrogantly at Tony. “Guilty as charged, brother dearest.”

“Thor, don’t.” Tony managed to force the words through both his raw throat and his own better judgement. “It’s done now. He’s not worth it.”

In all honesty, Thor looked more hurt than Tony was. He knew Loki was a smug, evil little fuck who took pleasure in ruining everyone else’s lives. Thor, on the other hand, was determined to continue to remember the boy he grew up with, before puberty epically fucked with his head. Thor had defended his brother when the rest of them would accuse him of being behind anything that ever happened at the school. Loki’s proud confession had him questioning to what extent he was right in coming to his brother’s defence.

Tony pushed himself up and staggered to his feet, just about regaining enough breath to make it to the doorway. “I hope you’re happy, Loki. I hope this achieved everything you wanted it to.” He spat viciously, and stormed out in to the corridor. He’d barely made it four steps when Coulson called his name from the other end.

“I’ve been looking for you, Stark. Principal Fury needs to speak to you.” The usually stuffy, by the rule-book prefect looked uneasy, almost guilty, and Tony knew that he’d been given a copy of the photo as well. “I’m sorry, Tony.” He muttered as he passed. All he could do was incline his head towards him slightly to acknowledge the words.

Howard had brought him up firmly on the philosophy that life isn’t fair. Shit happens, and there’s no reason for it. It just does. Once again, Tony finds himself questioning the guidelines his father gave him. He was encouraged to go out and flirt with actresses and models and singers – anyone famous enough to get him in the papers. Howard cultivated his playboy lifestyle from an appallingly young age; Tony Stark, the wild, rich and handsome son of multi-billion dollar entrepreneur Howard Stark. It practically sold itself. Nowhere in that reputation does ‘Tony Stark in long term relationship with fellow boarding school student’ add any value. He didn’t even want to think about the amount of money his father would throw at this to prevent it getting into the papers, unwilling to test the old ‘all publicity is good publicity’ adage.

The walk to Fury’s office felt like the longest walk of his life. The eyes of everyone he passed flicked towards him, some filled with pity, others with disgust. Focussing entirely on putting one foot in front of the other, he left murmurs in his wake.

He ignored the protests of Fury’s personal assistant that the principal was busy, and burst through the old wooden doors with a slam. He was on the phone, and it took Tony mere seconds to work out who he was speaking to.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary.” He said, pinching the bridge of his nose and completely ignoring Tony’s entrance. “With all due respect, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. It was just a dumb party game - No, Stark, you listen to me. You’re making a mistake-” Fury was defending him against his father? If he hadn’t been watching it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it. “Fine. Fine. That’s your choice, Howard. It’s just a fucking stupid one.”

He slammed the phone back down into its holder, looking over at Tony for the first time since he’d entered the room. “Sit down, Tony.” He said, quiet rage making his voice shake.

“He’s pulling me out, isn’t he?”

Something flickered across his face, but Tony didn’t identify it as amusement until he barked a short, sharp laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day when you actually wanted to stay here.”

Tony shrugged. “You know my father. There’s a reason I wanted to board. It’s this place or being stuck with him all day. In comparison to him, your school is practically paradise.”

“You mind if we add that quote to our advertising?”

Tony laughed bitterly, the shock of seeing his principal actually crack a joke not alleviating the tension and frustration. “Can’t you stop him? Can’t you do anything? I dunno… Say it’s not safe for me to go home because my father is a massive homophobe who doesn’t give a shit about me?”

Fury shook his head apologetically. “He’s going to be here in just over an hour. I’m sorry, Tony, but he’s your father. There’s nothing I can do.”

It was at that point that Tony realised that maybe it wasn’t just reverence to his father’s money, or fear at his temper, that kept Tony in school despite all of the shenanigans he caused. Fury actually gave a shit about him, in his own, distant kind of way. And now not even that could protect him.

Tony swore loudly. He tipped his chair over as he got to his feet, pacing the room furiously, while Fury did nothing but watch. “What about Bruce?” He said suddenly. He couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to think about the consequences on Bruce, beyond obviously not being able to see him. “He’s cutting him from the scholarship programme, isn’t he?” The look on Fury’s face said it all. “You can’t let him get away with this.” He knew his voice was getting progressively louder, knew that he was taking this out on his principal, but he couldn’t stop himself. “This isn’t his fault. There must be something you can do. What about all the money from the other students? The ones that didn’t last the whole year? You can’t force him out, Nick, you just can’t.”

He took the direct, first name plea under his belt without his expression changing. “Stark, that’s not my decision to make. He’s paid through until the summer, but unless he finds some way to scrape together the fees, he’s not coming back in the fall. Those are the rules.”

“But that’s not fair!” He knew he was being petulant, throwing a tantrum like a child, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Tony.” Fury said firmly, cutting through his angry ranting with one word. “There’s nothing that we can do now, so if you want my advice? Go back and speak to him before your father arrives. Say goodbye.”

Who’d have ever thought the totally badass Principal Fury could show such concern?

*

“Bruce-”

He managed a syllable before Bruce silenced him, their mouths desperate, saying everything that words couldn’t say any more. Tony allowed himself to relax, to enjoy what might be the last kiss they exchanged in a long time, to lose himself in Bruce and his lips and his touch.

He didn’t realise it until that moment, but he was so far gone. Too far to forget, too far to ever even think about moving on. He’d spent years in a world where nothing mattered to him. Nothing was ever important enough to matter to him. Everything in his life was replaceable, from his lab equipment to his tech gadgets to his relationships. If something broke, he’d replace it with something better, something more expensive and valuable.

There wasn’t anything more now. It was just him and Bruce, and that, at that moment, could never be replaced. “I love you.” He murmured, their lips barely parted. They were so close. Tony watched as his boyfriend’s eyes, closed gently behind his glasses, snapped open, wide with disbelief. “I love you, Bruce Banner.”

Oh God, there were tears. Bruce was welling up, his hands shaking as he took a step back. “Y-You’re fucking with me, right?”

Tony laughed, a thick, choked up laugh. “Why would I be fucking with you? I love you so fucking much, Bruce. So. Fucking. Much.” When Bruce didn’t respond, Tony’s heart skipped a few beats, and he realised he’d been a total idiot. “Oh. O-Oh. Right, o-okay.” His head was pounding, his throat dry. “I’m just gonna-” And he staggered out of their room, unable to believe he’d misjudged them so badly. God, he was so egotistical, presuming that Bruce would feel the same way. He’d never felt so mortified.

A hand grabbed the sleeve of his blazer, and tugged him back. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.” Tony agreed sagely, wishing that Bruce would just forget it. “I’m sorry, I totally just ruined that goodbye thing, too.”

“Ruined?” Bruce repeated. “Tony, you ass.” He took a hold of his tie and honest to God pulled him in, pulled him against his lips once again, a soft, sweet kiss that would have set off fireworks in his mind if Tony Stark’s life was a cheesy rom-com. “I love you too, you moron.”

“So…”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“… Gross.” The addition to the conversation (read: declaration of love) provided by Barton reminded them that they were kind of standing in a vaguely public corridor where everyone had an unreasonable interest in their newly discovered relationship. Tony quickly suggested returning to their room, flipping Clint off as he did.

“I wish we’d gone f-further. Like, physically. I want to… to do all that stuff. With you.” Bruce said, his voice only wavering a little. “That was supposed to come out more confidently.”

Tony laughed hollowly, checking his watch. Of course he did. “Howard’s arriving to escort me to a heavily armed and isolated prison camp in the middle of the Atlantic in like, twenty minutes.” Tony said with regret. “But God, I want that too. So much.”

“Next time I see you, yeah?” Bruce said quietly. The question as to when exactly that would be hung in the air, unasked. “I’m so sorry, Tony. This is my fault.”

“He’s pulling your scholarship funding.” Tony blurted. He’d meant to break the news to Bruce in a more gentle manner, but he didn’t know how much time they had left, and he felt like he should be the one to tell him. “You’re covered until the summer, but then…”

Bruce smiled his small, sad smile. “But then I’m going home, yeah. I always knew this place was too good to be true.”

The thought of Bruce, back with his abusive father, made Tony feel sick. The bruises had only just faded from the last time they were forced together; Tony refused to let that happen.  “Bruce, I-”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” The determination in Bruce’s face to not let his voice betray him spoke volumes, and Tony knew the expression well - well enough to see right through it. “What’s done is done. There’s nothing we can do to fix it now. Let’s just… enjoy our last few minutes.”

Lazy, gentle kisses were exchanged amidst a comfortable silence, each of them merely taking solace in the knowledge that the other was there, their touch ghosting over the skin. No matter the distance between them, they’d always have this, this basic, fundamental understanding between the two of them that if this was all they had, they were fine with it, because they had each other.

“I was so selfish.”

Bruce looked up at Tony, his eyes darkening at the comment. “Don’t be an idiot, Tony.”

“I never thought about… about what this would do to you.” Tony confessed. He couldn’t believe he’d been so self-absorbed, only worrying about himself if Howard found out. About how he’d be stuck at home with his billionaire father in their enormous mansion with anything he could ever want, instead of being at school. “We shouldn’t have-”

Bruce sat up, staring across at Tony’s blank expression. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say we shouldn’t have done this.” Tony tried to protest, because they really shouldn’t have done, but Bruce cut over him, his voice shaking a little as he tried to keep it under control. “You just told me you loved me, Stark. Not just a little… a little crush or something. You love me. And I love you. Right?”

“Right. Yeah, of course, but-”

“But nothing. I love you, you love me, no regrets, hey?” He looked into Bruce’s face, at his small, wistful smile. They didn’t have much, and what they did have wasn’t ideal, but Bruce was right. He couldn’t allow himself to cheapen their relationship with guilt or regret.

“No regrets.” Tony agreed. “Though I am sorry my dad pulled your scholarship.”

“Yeah, well, so am I. But that’s not your fault, and to be honest, I don’t really want to take his money anyway.” Tony didn’t want to admit Bruce had a point. One part of his brain detested the dirty money, donated only so he could look philanthropic, entirely benefitting Howard, but the other wanted to scream ‘fuck the ethics’ and take it anyway. Bruce deserved better than abuse at his father’s hand, at least. “I’m going to miss you.” Bruce said quietly. “Like, a lot.”

“I’d miss me too.” Tony said drily. Bruce snorted. “What, you weren’t expecting me to get sentimental, were you?”

“More sentimental than a declaration of love?”

“Shut it, Banner.” There was a pause, then they both burst out laughing. It was a reckless, desperate laugh, the laugh of two people who know the world has moved against them, the laugh of two people with nothing at all left to lose.

“Promise you’ll call me?” Bruce said, when they’d calmed down a little.

“Every day. Probably more than once.” Tony promised. He reached out to press his palm against Bruce’s cheek, bringing them together for what could be the last kiss they shared in a long time. It was soft, sweet, and it tasted far too much like the final goodbye for Tony’s liking. “I’ll probably see you soon anyway. Howard always makes a point to get as far away from me as possible during spring break, so maybe you could come over and visit me?”

“What if Howard finds out?” Bruce said nervously. “It’s only going to make him even madder if he finds out we’re sneaking around behind his back.”

“And what exactly have we been doing for the last however long?” Tony shrugged. “He’s already going to lock me up and throw away the key; there’s a limit to how much more angry he can get.”

Bruce doesn’t appreciate the joke. “Tony…”

“Just tell me you’ll come see me during spring break, okay?”

Bruce hesitated for a second, then smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I will.” Tony could tell he still had doubts, but he appreciated Bruce pretending that it would be that simple. “I’ll see you really soon, I swear.”

Tony’s phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message from Howard’s assistant’s assistant or someone. He wasn’t expecting Howard to show up himself – even when he had disgraced the family name or whatever, he still wasn’t worth an hour of Howard’s precious time.

“You coming down?” Tony asked, hopefully.. It probably wasn’t wise, but Bruce was brave, the only person he’d ever met who was too brave to be scared off by Howard Stark, and he nodded. He took a bag from Tony’s bed, and helped him lug it out into the corridor.

“Tony?” Thor’s voice boomed from several doors down. “Tony, are you leaving?”

It was loud enough to drag Steve and Clint out too, as well as a few other heads sticking around doors, which disappeared quickly as soon as they saw the look on Tony’s face. “I can’t believe he’d do something like this.” Steve murmured quietly, and Tony snorted. Since they were kids, Howard had always preferred straight laced Steve to his own reckless embarrassment of a son. Steve had never seen the Howard he knew.

They all chipped in, taking a bag from Tony’s bed and carrying them downstairs to the front driveway. They couldn’t spare the chopper, apparently; the limousine sat ostentatiously on the gravel. Even when he was in disgrace, there was still a fucking limousine. He hated his father more than ever in that moment. “Mr Stark.” The assistant/secretary/babysitter said as he approached. He ignored her.

“I’ll see you guys soon.”

He probably wouldn’t, and they all knew that. Thor pulled him into a crushingly tight bear hug, apologising profusely for his half-brother’s role in the whole affair. Tony assured him that it wasn’t his fault, and he eventually was released, feeling slightly more compact than before.

Clint, not one for tearful goodbyes, clapped him on the back hard enough to almost knock him over. “I still think Banner’s kind of a dick,” he said seriously, ignoring the vague protestations of both Tony and Bruce, “but you both deserve better than this. So yeah.” It was the closest Clint had ever got to heartfelt, as far as Tony was aware, and he appreciated the sentiment.

Steve, because he’s fucking Steve, saluted. “You’re kidding me, right?” Tony groaned. “Rogers, please. You’re embarrassing me.” He dropped the pose, albeit reluctantly. “Make me proud, Stevie. And you should ask out Carter. My sources tell me she’s totally soft on you.”

Steve spluttered indignantly. “Your sources? How long exactly have your sources known that piece of information?”

“Think of it as a parting gift, Rogers.”

And he turned and blocked out his friends, his principal, the as of yet unidentified Stark Industries employee, and focussed all his attention on Bruce. They’d never exactly been the type for PDA, for obvious reasons, but if there was ever a time for an unscheduled public make out session, it was right here, right now. “M’gonna miss you.” Bruce mumbled.

“Shut up.” Tony said quietly, and they kissed once more, their one final chance for God knows how long.

Tony climbed into the car and waved sadly as it pulled off the drive, leaving everything he cared about behind on the driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twelve chapters later i've eventually memorised the hyperlink thing click here for my [tumbles](http://isaac-laehey.tumblr.com)
> 
> til not next week the week after, amigos


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gaaaaaaaah I've had the world's worst block this week, plus i'm back to school and there's so much work and i have no free time and urghhh. sigh. progress is slow, but here's a new chapter. i'm so determined to not make you wait for the last couple of chapters i swear to god
> 
> warning for some homophobia

The best thing about Stark Industries limousines was that every single one was fitted with a fully stocked mini bar, and Tony didn’t hesitate before making full use of it. He knew it was a clichéd response, a typical Tony Stark reaction. It was what he was famous for, after all; early on-set alcoholism, loose morals and a fixation with quick and dirty short term pleasure. 

His conscience tugged at him a little, reminding him how much Bruce would disapprove. Alcohol never solved anyone’s problems, he would say, it just creates more. Tony could practically hear his voice in his ear, and it was hard to argue that he was wrong. It had, of course, caused this one, after all. But what Bruce didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and besides, there was no way that Tony could take on his father’s homophobic assholery sober.

The assistant eyed him when he dug a small bottle of vodka out of the bar, and he just smiled back at her, tilting it in her direction as he switched on the Stark charm. “You want some?” Her glare intensified, and Tony sat back in his seat and cracked the bottle open, lifting it to his lips in an all too familiar action.

The car had barely pulled into the car park of Stark Industries when the assistant got the call. "Your father wants you to meet him in his office immediately." She informed him. Even she had the decency to look embarrassed.

Of course he wanted to talk to him.  He wanted to do damage control, to see what extent Tony had permanently ruined his reputation and what could be covered up with a few candids of him out with an armful of girls. He didn't hurry, he had no concern for how much of his father's precious time he might be wasting - he just wanted a stiff drink. Like really stiff. Like double whiskey and whisky stiff.

He elected to bypass Howard’s office, taking the elevator all the way to the top of the building. It opened into the lounge, and he made a beeline straight for the proper bar, looking for something a little more quality than the cheap crap his father kept in the cars. It was definitely understocked in comparison however, a sure sign that Howard had been freaking out about something recently.  He tried not to feel bad for piling yet more shit on to his already over stressed father ; it wasn't his fault that Loki had elected to unearth the most exciting gay love nest scandal of the past few years, and it certainly wasn't his fault that Howard was enough of an asshole to care.  All the good booze had been cleared out, hundreds if not thousands of dollars of high quality scotch and expensive whiskey. He'd even had at the decent vodka.

This didn't exactly encourage him to go engage in a totally irrational conversation with his crazy ass father.

He fished out half a bottle of Jack and took a swig, the fiery kick reminding him of his early teens, a time earmarked only by an ever changing flow of older girls and the constant companionship of Mr Daniels. Howard had never commented on the speed at which his fourteen year old son got through booze, just making sure the cabinet was always restocked whenever he wanted.

Once he’d kicked the habit, Tony had made a point not to drink the stuff since, but he was pretty sure that entering into this discussion with his father sober was practically encouraging murder.

“Mr Stark?”

Tony smiled to himself, grateful to all the hours he spent programming himself someone to keep him company. JARVIS might have been computerised and mainly based off of his own personality, but at least he could pretend that someone at Stark Tower gave a shit about him. “Yeah, J?”

“Howard Stark had instructed me to inform you that he wishes to speak to you in his office immediately.”

JARVIS would never take instructions from Howard. He was programmed specifically to ignore any and all orders given to him by his father, on serious pain of dismantlement. Tony was furious. Howard had hacked into his own cyberspace, taken over his own AI – that was overstepping the line.

When Tony was about ten, he got super bored with the action figures and toy cars that the other kids his age were playing with, so he started to mess around with computers. Howard wouldn’t get him one of his own, so he was forced to steal his father’s work computer when he went out. It was password protected, but hey. Tony was a smart kid. Howard, not so much of a sensible adult.

So not sensible, in fact, that he left a programme full of nuclear launch code fully accessible on his computer to anyone with the hacking skills of a prodigious ten year old. Tony nearly started World War Three that day, and Howard spent the next three years either fielding questions about his ability to lead the company, or hiding Tony from exploitation by evil geniuses or corrupt pseudo-government organisations , allowing him to have some vague resemblance of a normal teenaged life.

Since then, they had an agreement. Tony could get access to anything he wanted of his own, as long as he didn’t touch Howard’s stuff. In return, his father wouldn’t get involved in his projects, no matter how dubious. That was the deal. That was how they’d operated for the past seven years, and it worked.

Howard interfering with JARVIS was the final straw. “Whatever he’s done to you,” Tony said, slamming the bottle back down on to the polished counter. “Whatever fucked up programming he’s changed, I swear to God, J, I will fix it.”

He didn’t waste a second in storming down to Howard’s office, absolutely livid. Fuck with him all he wanted, Tony didn’t care, but fuck with his bots? That was a completely different issue. “Mr Stark is in a confe-” His secretary or whoever she was said, raising a hand as if that would stop Tony’s fury.

“Trust me, he wants to speak to me.” He spat at her, and she visibly shrunk back. “And for once, I actually want to talk to him.” She floundered for a second, then gave in, opening the door a tiny bit and having a quick whispered exchange with his father. The next moment, Tony heard him end the call abruptly. Tony stormed in.

“What the fuck happened to leaving my bots alone?” Howard didn’t even have the courtesy to respond. “We had a deal! You leave my stuff alone, I’ll leave your stuff alone. You should fucking well remember that if you don’t want some fucking precious supersonic jet plane crashing in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. What have you got JARVIS doing, huh? Answering your phone calls? Organising your social calendar?” Tony wished his father would reply, would say something, because he was running out of things to yell about.

“Shut up, boy.” Well, there it was.

Tony was fuming. “No, I-”

“I don’t care about your stupid robots, Anthony.” Howard snapped, shuffling the papers scattered across his desk in to a drawer, then looking back at him with a heavy gaze. Tony fidgeted under his eye, feeling uncomfortable and lost for words for the first time in years. The only time he’d seen his father look like that was when he was seven years old, when Howard sat him down and told him that his mother had died.

"No, you just care about me embarrassing you, don't you?" Tony spat, his hands shaking from suppressed rage. It took a remarkable amount of willpower to not reach across the table and slam his fist into the side of Howard's head. He wouldn't come out of it well though; both he and his father knew full well which of them would win in a fight. So he just stuck to the one thing he knew he had the upper hand in - arguing. "You just care about what your bigoted friends think. You care more about your fucking share prices than you do about your own son."

A hand cracked across his face. It fucking hurt, but Tony couldn’t stop the smile spreading over his face, completely unfazed. "That all you got, huh? Why stop there?" Tony taunted, his heart racing with adrenaline. "I'm sure Mom would have loved to see this side of you."

Howard looked shaken, like he was torn between wanting to apologise and wanting to punch him into next week. "You're never going to see him again." He said with harsh finality.

Tony smirked. "Well, we'll see about that." He threw back. "It's hardly like you're around much to stop me, is it?"

"Why couldn’t you have just kept this quiet?” Tony fell silent; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “If you want to… experiment, that’s your decision. But you could have kept it quiet for everyone else’s sake.”

Every single time he and Bruce were forced to hide their relationship flashed through Tony’s mind one after another, and he was unable to hold back the sniggers. “Keep this quiet? We’ve been together for months. We have been keeping it quiet. You think I wanted you to fucking find out? You think I want to be here with you yelling at me? Or do you think, maybe, I might want to be back at school with my friends, as far away from you as bloody possible?” Howard looked on dumbly as Tony’s bitter laughter filled the room. “This is no fucking experiment, Dad. I like Bruce. A whole fucking lot.”

“You’re not allowed to see him again.” Howard repeated, clenching and unclenching his fists subconsciously. “You’re not seeing him, you’re not talking to him- Give me your phone.”

“You’re grounding me?” Tony snorted in disbelief. “How old do you think I am? Six?”

“I’m not grounding you, Anthony.” He said tiredly. “You’re free to go and see whoever you want, just not him.”

Tony ground his teeth.  He knew his father couldn’t be reasoned with, and with an expression that could turn something to stone, handed over his phone. His only escape would be if Howard decided to ship him out to California, away from him and Stark Industries, where he had a little more freedom. “Fine.” He said calmly. “So you’re just going to keep me in New York until September? Aren’t I going to get in your way? I know you hate having me staying in the tower while you’re working.”

“Anthony…”

“So is it cool with you if I have a party tomorrow night? We won’t be too loud. Well, we might be. Depends how many people respond to the open Facebook event.” Tony grinned at the look on Howard’s face. Most people would dismiss the threat, but it’s hardly like it’s the first time Tony had held a doors open party in the tower. The total cost of the damages was high, but it was worth it to see the look on his father’s face.

“No!” Howard said immediately. “No. You’re going to Malibu tomorrow. I don’t want you fucking anything else up for me by staying here all summer.”

He brushed off the insult, too happy that he was moving practically as far away from Howard as possible without leaving the continental US. “So I can see Rhodey?” He asked. He wasn’t Bruce, by any means, but at least it was someone. He couldn’t deal with five months of just Howard and JARVIS for company. He was a social butterfly, he couldn’t help it.

“Look boy, I don’t care what you do, as long as it doesn’t embarrass me, okay?”

Well, Tony thought, that was that. He stood up and left the room without another word. Howard didn’t call out after him.

*

He spent an evening reliving his former years, with a half empty bottle of JD in one hand and his dick in the other. Feeling sorry for himself had always been his favourite solution to problems presented by Howard being an ass – he hadn’t realised how long it had been since he’d had a real fight with his father.

If there was any reason to have a fight, he figured, this was as good as any.

He was hung over as fuck the next morning, and only the thought of putting three thousand miles between him and his father could motivate him to crawl out from under his comforter. He thought back to that morning a few weeks back, when Bruce had woken up in this very bed, flushed and embarrassed about unwanted morning wood. It seemed like another age.

“Good morning, Tony.” JARVIS piped up when he staggered into the penthouse lounge. “There is a bottle of water under the bar, and painkillers in the cabinet for your head, sir.” Tony smiled despite himself. He might have been off his face, but he wasn’t too drunk to find the override Howard had slipped into his coding and remove it. JARVIS was as good as new, thank God. No-one messed with his AI.

He tapped out a quick message to Rhodey, letting him know he’d be arriving back in Cali around two, and he replied almost instantly, despite the time difference making it about 7am, saying that he’d come meet him at the airport.

Howard refused to let him use their plane, and even refused to pay for First Class. Bitch. He upgraded himself when he got to the airport. It wasn’t that he had anything against sitting in Economy, he just really didn’t want anyone to try to talk to him, and it was worth the extra money for the peace and quiet. He tried to watch some crappy action flick on the screen in front of him, but not even exaggerated CGI explosions and a frankly ridiculous car chase through Paris could take his mind off of Bruce. He needed to talk to him, needed to make sure he was okay. If his father moved fast enough, the whole story would have been quashed before the paparazzi even caught its scent, which was good for only one reason; it protected Bruce.

Contrary to popular belief, being vaguely famous sucked. He’d barely considered the effect it would have on Bruce. He was a private person, way more private than Tony. He didn’t even like the people around him at school knowing his business; there was no way that he would want to live a life being constantly hounded by cameras and reporters. Even if – when – if they broke up, they’d still want to know everything they could about Tony Stark’s Gay High School Adventure.

“Complimentary champagne, Sir?” An air hostess interrupted his spiralling descent into silent rage, holding out a champagne flute. He took it gratefully, not bothering to point out that he was obviously not twenty one. He wished he could get something stronger, but even he didn’t think he’d be able to push it that far.

He ended up sleeping through most of the flight, the only escape from feeling guilty and missing Bruce. Rhodey was waiting for him in arrivals, holding a sign proudly proclaiming Anthony Edward Stark in cursive. Tony was grinning as he walked over, and pulled his best friend into a hug. “Jesus Christ, am I pleased to see you.”

“Hugging? Sentiments? Who are you and what have you one with Tony Stark?” Rhodey joked as he pulled away. “Seriously, this Bruce kid must be a real good influence on you.”

“He is, yeah. He’s great.”

“I’m sorry about your dad.” Rhodey said seriously, and Tony just shrugged.

“It was inevitable, I guess. We were hoping to get away with it for a little longer, but what can you do?” The sad thing was, Tony wasn’t even lying. He’d always known they were living on borrowed time. He regretted pushing it to the back of his mind though. Had he been sensible, he would have found a way to communicate with Bruce that Howard couldn’t have found, he would have found a way to protect Bruce. Now, the shit had hit the fan and neither of them were prepared. He’d fucked up Bruce’s future prospects, forced him back into living with his dickhead father. It could have been avoided had Tony thought for five seconds instead of just presuming everything would work out.

“Tony…” Rhodey started, but Tony cut over him.

“He’s an ass and a homophobe, I wasn’t expecting him to take it well.” Tony explained. “Look, I didn’t come here for pity. Let’s go out, do something to forget everything that sucks in our lives.”

“Tony, it’s barely two in the afternoon.”

“My body clock says it’s four, and that’s late enough to at least get pissed by the pool.” Tony argued. “Come on, I’ll make you one of those weird cocktails you like. I haven’t had a decent drink in days; Howard’s totally cleared out the booze back at the tower.”

“How on Earth did you survive?” Rhodey deadpanned, following him outside and wheeling his suitcase behind him.

“Jack.” Tony said in way of explanation.

Rhodey wrinkled his nose. “You must have been desperate. And why the hell am I carrying your suitcase?”

Tony just grinned silently and carried on walking, heading for Rhodey’s beat up Jeep parked out front. “You ever think about getting a new car?” He asked, clambering awkwardly into the passenger seat. “Even just an Audi or a Ferrari or something? You must get fed up of winning the award for the richest kid with the shittiest car every year.”

“I like my Jeep, okay? It has character.”

“It has rusty bolts falling off it.” Tony said, holding one up. “Literally. It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, I think your collection of Aston Martins is embarrassing.”

He had missed the banter with Rhodey, he thought. He cared a lot, deep down, about his friends at Erskine, but Steve was too stuffy, Clint too crude and Thor too… well, Thor-like, to get the same kind of quick, snarky exchanges that he shared with Rhodey. They pulled up, engine sputtering, outside the cliff top mansion, and Tony let out a breath. “Home, sweet home.” He smirked. “Race you to the pool.”

Tony won, of course, and even made good on his promise to mix Rhodey a drink. “This is what I miss the most when I’m at school.”

“What? Hanging out with me?”

“No.  The sunshine.” Tony said, flopping back on to a giant float in the middle of their outside pool. “New York winters are a fucking bitch.”

“You are looking super pasty.” Rhodey said seriously, pinching the skin on Tony’s stomach. “And you’re letting yourself go, too. Too much sex, not enough exercise, I think.” Tony flushed, and Rhodey, the number one expert in the many facial expressions of Tony Stark, didn’t miss it. “Seriously? Still?”

“Shut up.”

“Like, I get waiting, but come on!” He said in disbelief, turning to look at Tony. “Has your dick dropped off?”

“I said shut up.” He said again, his voice harsher. “There’s more to relationships than just what you stick your dick in, Rhodes.”

His friend stared. “Okay, seriously. This sudden change in character is giving me whiplash.”

“He makes me a better person.” Tony confessed quietly. “I was… I was such a dick to him when I met him. I was mad because he didn’t try to hero worship me for my money or fame. I was jealous because he was smart, smarter than me at a lot of things. I was confused, you know, about how this annoying asshole with his glasses and his braces had the nerve to mess with me. He opened my eyes to a lot of things.” Tony sighed, slipping off his float and plummeting underwater, stealing a few moments alone. It was only when he started to think about it that he realised the extent that Bruce had changed everything.

When he resurfaced, Rhodey was looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Tony continued. “His father hits him. His mother’s dead, and as far as I can tell, it wasn’t from natural causes. He doesn’t trust anyone, doesn’t let anyone in… But he let me in. I wasn’t going to risk messing that up for a quick fuck.”

Rhodey nodded slowly. “I want to meet him. He must be a seriously remarkable guy.”

“Remarkable is one word for it.” Tony said, letting out a sigh. “Howard won’t let me speak to him. And for once, he’s been unbelievably thorough. He’s coming over for spring break though, if I can somehow get a plane ticket to him.”

“Why can’t you just mail them?” Rhodey said, taking a long drink from his glass.

Tony stared at him in disbelief. “Mail them? That’s your contribution? Seriously? That… Huh. That could actually work.”

Rhodey shook his head. “You and your father live in the most ridiculous world.”

*

_Hey, Bruce -_

_How are you doing? Sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’m fine, it’s just that Howard’s taken my phone and laptop and stuff. I’m not grounded, per say - I’m allowed to go out and get drunk and grope girls in dark corners of clubs as much as I like - I’m just not allowed to speak to you. I guess the advantage of having a technology obsessed father is that he forgets sometimes that you can communicate by pen and paper._

_I got moved out over to the Malibu house this weekend. I think it’s because it’s easier to keep me away from the press here. Normally I’d appreciate it, but to be honest, all I want to do right now is find a reporter and tell them exactly how much of a dick Howard is being. On the bright side, Rhodey’s out here, so that’s good. He knows about you and is totally supportive, by the way. You guys need to meet when you come over during spring break (which you are still doing. I’m not letting you out of that, no way. Howard’s gonna be in Paris for a conference or something, so the coast is clear. Plane tickets are attached, we’ll pick you up at the airport). At least there’s booze here. Howard’s pretty much drank the entire tower dry back in NYC. I was forced to drink Jack, Bruce. JACK. That’s a new low, even for me._

_I hope everything’s going okay at Erskine and the gossip has died down. If anyone’s giving you any crap, please feel free to beat the living shit out of them – what have you got to lose, right? (Oops. Probably shouldn’t have said that, but if I cross it out now, you’re still going to be able to read it and I can’t be arsed to start this again.) Anyway. Fury’s agreed to look into your scholarship candidacy for next year, appeal to the board of governors or some shit. It’s a pretty remote chance, but don’t give up hope, and for God’s sake, please don’t ACTUALLY beat the living shit out of anyone, no matter how much they deserve it, because that would be kind of hard to explain._

_Please, just, look after yourself Bruce, and I’ll see you soon, yeah?_

_I love you. (It feels so weird to be writing that. Not that it’s not true, but just. Yeah. Love. Wow. Never expected that to happen.)_

_Tony_

_P.S. If you don’t write me back, I’m gonna be so pissed. Address is 10880 Malibu Point, Malibu, CA 90265. See you soon. Again. I’ve said that several times now. Okay, I’m going. T x_

*

He knew it would take a couple of days for it to arrive, and a few days for Bruce’s reply to be posted back, but that didn’t stop him from checking the mail every day.

He was lonely as fuck. Rhodey had stuck around for a couple of days, keeping him company and stopping him getting too wasted every night, but it wasn’t like he could stay forever. It didn’t stop Tony resenting him for leaving, despite his promise that he’d be back soon, he just needed to let his parents know he was still alive.

Within three days, Tony had become sick of the house. It was far too big for just him, and JARVIS’ interface was no way near as integrated in Cali as it was back in New York. Rhodey stole the key for the alcohol cabinet on his way out, saying Tony would thank him for it at some point. He was wrong. He really didn’t thank him at all.

Figuring he’d make the most of his sobriety, Tony took one of the cars out. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to go - he just didn’t want to be sat by himself all day – so he just drove around aimlessly, roof down, music so loud he couldn’t hear himself think, until he found himself somewhere with shops and restaurants and people.

He wasn’t planning to drink – hell, he still had to drive home – but only when he was alone in an unfamiliar place did he realise that driving for an hour wouldn’t make him any less lonely. Slipping into the first bar he came across that was open in the middle of the day, he flashed his fake ID and told the bar tender to not serve him another one. He didn’t trust himself to not do something stupid.

It was quiet, only one or two other people in the place. The television was switched on to some entertainment news channel, and he watched it absently, trying to make his one drink last the afternoon. Someone was pregnant. A couple he’d never heard of were getting a divorce. An actor had lost sixty pounds for a major film role. It was mindless, inane chatter, a welcome change from the voices in his head.

 “Sources are telling us that America’s favourite bad boy is coming off the market.” The reporter said gleefully, like they were revealing the biggest scoop ever. “That’s right, we’re being told that Tony Stark, the notorious playboy son of arms entrepreneur Howard Stark, has settled down at last.”

Tony’s head snapped up to the screen, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. But there it was, his face plastered on the screen, arm in arm with Pepper of all people.

“Tony and Pepper Potts have been friends for years, and there have been suggestions of an on-again off-again relationship between the two as they’ve gotten older, but sources close to both Stark and Potts have told us that the two are dating seriously and have been for a while now. Be sure to follow us on Twitter to get all the latest updates.”

Tony groaned, letting his head crash down on the bar in front of him. His father was behind this, he knew it. His own father fed bullshit information to the press to cover his back. The things Howard Stark would do to protect his reputation would never cease to amaze Tony.

The bar tender was looking at him with a sly grin on his face. “Don’t be embarrassed, kid. She ain’t half bad lookin’, that one.”

Tony glared at him. He had to get out of here right now. He threw a ten down and attempted a polite smile at the other patrons before rushing back to his car, absolutely fuming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my [tumblr](http://isaac-laehey.tumblr.com), as usual <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek any more

_Tony,_

_Of course I’m coming to Malibu for spring break. I miss you so much, it’s actually ridiculous. Can you hold out until then? Because I’m not sure I can. I’m looking forward to meeting Rhodey though – he must be some guy if you have been best friends that long._

_Erskine’s fine. People are saying a lot of dumb shit about us (okay, mainly about you. No-one really cares about me) but I’m basically just ignoring them. It’s that or tearing their throats out, so… Even your friends are being nice to me. Clint dragged me down to the gym yesterday and got me to punch foam things. I guess it was kind of fun. Turns out he’s actually not that bad of a guy, just a jackass on the surface. Danvers saw us sparring and she wants me to take up boxing seriously. Do we have a team for that? Someone should probably tell her I’m not going to be around next year to compete before she gets her hopes up. Thor keeps apologising to me for what Loki did. Loki just looks fucking smug all the time. I’m seriously tempted to use my new skills at throwing a punch to permanently mess up his little weasel face. And Steve… well, Steve is Steve. You know how he is. But he’s around, and is either a good listener or a great actor, but he makes an effort to be friendly, so that’s… nice, I guess._

_Natasha and Clint had a stupid fight followed by make-up sex so loud it woke half the first floor corridor. Pepper got sexiled so I offered her your bed. We watched chick flicks and had a sleepover. There was popcorn. It was really weird. I thought I should tell you, because I wouldn’t want you thinking I was getting up to anything with your new girlfriend behind your back. That was a joke, by the way. I hope. You guys aren’t actually dating, are you? (I asked Pepper. She laughed and said ‘He wishes’ so I guess there’s that.) Was that Howard’s great plan to quash the gay rumours? Pepper’s kind of pissed off about it. Understandably._

_Don’t take this the wrong way, but… I’m scared of what’s going to happen when everyone finds out about us. We’re never going to keep it secret forever, whatever Howard wants. Hell, I don’t want to keep it a secret. It’s just… Pepper went shopping yesterday and someone was taking pictures of her buying shoes. I don’t know if I can deal with that kind of attention. … We’ll work something out._

_I love you, too._

_Bruce_

*

It had been a month since Tony had received Bruce’s first letter, and the words still haunted him. Tony knew Bruce was right, knew that this was destined to fail spectacularly. Their worlds just weren’t compatible.

He was in the arrivals lounge at LAX, and he was nervous, but he had no idea why. He was looking forward to seeing Bruce, kissing Bruce, maybe… doing more with Bruce, but his heart was beating a mile a minute and he was freaking the fuck out. He wished he hadn’t let Rhodey talk his way out of coming with him to the airport (“You’ll want some time alone, I wouldn’t want to get in the way.”) because now he was just standing around, paranoid that someone had recognised him or that he’d been followed by a camera or something.

People were starting to spill through the gate, and Tony hunted for Bruce in the crowds. He should have brought a sign or something, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Eventually he spotted him, and waved him over. Bruce’s face lit up when he saw him, and Tony tried his best to push the burgeoning doubts to the back of his mind, and focus just on Bruce, and how great it was to see him again. He went in for a kiss, and Tony, panicking, redirected it quickly into a bro-friendly hug. “Not here.” He hissed under his breath, before pulling away. Bruce looked noticeably crestfallen, but nodded curtly. “It’s so damn good to see you, Bruce.”

“Yeah.” Bruce said quietly. “Yeah, you too, Tony.”

They walked back to the car in silence, but not the comfortable, peaceful silences Tony had gotten used to around Bruce. It was awkward and heavy and weird, and Tony didn’t like it one bit. “Can I take your bag?” He offered, trying to do something to alleviate the tension.

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

Damn it. “Something’s wrong.” Tony stated, stopping his boyfriend in the middle of the path. “What’s up? Tell me, big guy.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He replied tartly, shrugging Tony’s hand from his arm. “I’m fine.” He kept walking, Tony scrambling behind him, trying to catch him up. He tried to ask something, but Bruce just cut across him. “Tony, I’m fine, okay? I didn’t fly across the country to be interrogated.”

“Well, I didn’t fly you across the country to just listen to you snapping at me.” He retorted, feeling irrationally pissed off. It was a cheap shot, bringing money into the argument, but Tony would be lying if he said the flash of hurt that crossed Bruce’s eyes didn’t give him a little satisfaction.

“Fuck you, Stark.” Bruce said. “It’s like, I haven’t seen you in nearly six weeks and now I’ve forgotten how much of an asshole you are. Not everything is about you, you know.”

Tony elected to skip over that jab and tried a more sensitive approach. “Bruce, all I want is to know if you’re okay. You just don’t seem yourself.”

Bruce ignored him.

The drive from the airport back to Malibu passed in a painful silence. From time to time, Tony looked over at Bruce, opening his mouth as if to speak, but was met with a glare that clearly said “Don’t even bother.” This… was not a good indicator of how Tony’s spring break was going to go.

As they pulled up outside the house, Bruce made a small disbelieving noise. Tony smirked despite himself. “Welcome to Casa de Stark.” He said, gesturing at the house. Bruce showed no signs of moving, so Tony walked around and opened his door. “You coming in? Or are you extending your silent protest and sleeping in the car?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, but followed him inside. “I’m really sorry, Tony. You didn’t deserve that.” He admitted quietly.

“You bet I didn’t.” Tony replied, only half joking. He got that Bruce maybe didn’t always want to talk about things, but that was no reason to let himself get used as an emotional punching bag. “And I know there’s something wrong, so whenever – if ever – you want to talk about it, just let me know, yeah?”

“Shut up, Tony.”

“Make m-”

Bruce’s lips crashed against his, one hand gripping the back of his neck tightly, holding Tony still as his boyfriend effectively shut him up. Tony staggered backwards until he was pressed against the wall, his hips flush with Bruce’s. He was getting hard stupidly fast, and was terrified that Bruce would feel it and get embarrassed and stop whatever this was that had taken over his usually controlled and careful demeanour. Tony whimpered softly as Bruce pulled off, a flush rising high in his cheeks. “Shall we…”

“Upstairs?” Tony said hopefully.

“Y-Yeah.”

It took them a while to make it up the stairs, and by the time they reached Tony’s room, Bruce’s jacket and Tony’s shirt had been abandoned on the floor somewhere. Tony went to start on Bruce’s shirt buttons, but he grabbed his wrists. Tony frowned. “Bruce… You do know I think you are incredibly sexy and that there is absolutely no reason to be self-conscious or cover yourself up, right?”

Bruce nodded, his breath hitching as Tony planted a kiss on his newly exposed collar bone, unfastening the buttons slowly. It was kind of dark in the bedroom, Tony not bothering to open the blinds that morning, but the low light was more than enough to appreciate Bruce. It was only when he’d kissed all the way down Bruce’s chest to his belly button, when he had Bruce squirming and panting and oh so hard under him, that Tony realised they’d never really determined where this was heading. He didn’t want to presume. “Bruce, can I take your jeans off?” He asked carefully, watching Bruce’s reaction.

He bucked his hips off the bed, spluttering a range of affirmatives, and Tony tried his best to peel the form fitting denim from his boyfriend’s legs. “Jesus, how tight are these things?” He moaned as he inched them off of Bruce’s thighs. Eventually he succeeded, and threw them aside.

“You love it.” Bruce muttered. “Now get those fucking pants off before I tear them off.”

Tony still didn’t know where this was going. Underwear was a place they’d been before, it was safe territory, but as he stood there, looking at Bruce in his boxers, he knew what he wanted. “Bruce, I want to blow you.” He blurted, and Bruce honest to God moaned. “Is that o-okay?”

“Fucking h-hell, Stark!” He spat, already shoving the waistband over his hips. Tony helped, guiding them off completely.

Bruce was fucking gorgeous. He knew that anyway, but seeing him like this, naked, hard and leaking against his stomach, it was like nothing he’d ever witnessed. “Jesus Christ, Bruce.”

Bruce froze. “Wh-What?” He said, fear filling his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Tony barked out a short laugh. “You’re kidding, right? You look so damn beautiful.”

“Less sap. More you getting naked.” Bruce instructed, grinning despite himself. Tony kicked off his boxer briefs, ignoring the small wet patch on the front, and spread his arms to give Bruce a good view. “Hmm.” Bruce teased, quirking an eyebrow. “I guess you’ll do.”

“Is that it?” He said with false indignation. “You won’t be saying that in a second.”

“Time to put your money where your mouth is, Stark. Or, well, mouth where my d- oh my God.”

Tony wasted no time in circling his lips around the flushed pink head of Bruce’s dick, drawing illicit moans from him instantly. Tony had never actually given a blowjob before, but he’d received plenty in his lifetime, and he figured he’d just emulate what he liked. He didn’t dare try to take too much of Bruce into his mouth to start with, not wanting to embarrass himself by gagging or anything equally as unsexy, so he teased around the head, licking in small, gentle motions, his fingers playing with Bruce’s balls.

The mewls escaping his boyfriend’s mouth were probably the most erotic sounds Tony had ever heard.

He dragged his tongue along the underside of Bruce’s dick, wet and spitslick, before sinking a little further down and circling his fist at the base. He didn’t expect Bruce to feel so huge in his mouth, and had a newfound appreciation for anyone who had ever deep throated him because Jesus fuck that was a lot of dick. He managed a good few inches before he hit his gag reflex, and began to bob his head slowly, his lips and hand working together on Bruce’s whole length.

“God, Tony, you’re so… fuck – so good at that.” Bruce murmured encouragements down at him, punctuated with breathy moans and frequent swearing. Tony’s enthusiasm only increased at every word of praise. After barely a few minutes “Tony, please, I’m… I’m- fuck!”

Tony pulled away, but not fast enough. Come splattered against his still slightly parted lips, across his cheek, before he had time to catch the rest in his palm. Bruce froze, looking apologetic. “Sh-Shit, Tony, I’m sorry, I…” His words ran out as he watched Tony lick his lips deliberately, gathering a pool of white on his tongue and swallowing. “O-Oh.”

Tony grabbed a tissue from his nightstand and wiped his face and hands, a small smile on his face. “You never tasted yourself?” Bruce shook his head, blushing furiously. Tony moved back up the bed, lying next to Bruce. “Do you want to?” He asked, rolling on to his side to better see his boyfriend.

“I… I want to taste you.” Tony moaned as Bruce’s fist wrapped lightly around his erect cock. “C-Can I?”

“Who the fuck turns down a blow job?”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Tony.”

“Y-Yes! Fuck, yes, please, Bruce.” He spluttered, tripping over his words in his desperation to get them out. His cock had been neglected in the past month, forced to make do with just the occasional dissatisfying jerk when he got desperate. Having a very naked, very hot Bruce in bed next to him was more than enough to get him excited. “I… I don’t think I’m gonna last long, Bruce.” He warned, his voice shaking a little.

He lacked finesse, but more than made up for it with enthusiasm, though Tony had to admit, it really wasn’t bad for a first time. Rough lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and it felt different to anything Tony had felt before. “Jesus, Bruce…” He murmured, his hands tangling in Bruce’s curls. It took all his force of will to not buck his hips into the wet heat of his boyfriend’s mouth, but he did his best to show the same restraint as Bruce had.

He was fucking talented with his tongue, he’d give him that. He teased and touched and licked at all the right places, sending Tony spiralling quickly into incoherent babbling, and in barely any time at all, he was tugging on Bruce’s hair. “Bruce, I’m gonna come!”

Bruce just looked up at him through those thick eyelashes, and gave one final suck. Tony screamed Bruce’s name as a large hand stroked him through his climax.

He tried to swallow, but there was too much, and white spilled from the corner of his mouth and dribbled down his chin. Tony didn’t hesitate in pulling Bruce in for a kiss, ignoring his protestations about the mess. He could taste himself in Bruce’s mouth, a bitter, tangy taste. “You didn’t have to swallow.” He said, breaking away for air.

Bruce shrugged. “I wanted to taste you.”

“Always have to one up me, don’t you, Banner?” He joked, leaning back in. But instead of going for his mouth, he licked the trail of drying come from Bruce’s chin, gathering it on his tongue and swallowing. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

“Fine.” Bruce said, grinning. “Shower first, though?”

They stepped into the bathroom and Tony froze. “Bruce, what…” The bruises were fading, green with only traces of purple left, but still easy to spot under proper lighting. “Shit. I thought you said everything was okay at school.” Bruce shrugged, folding his arms across his chest in an attempt to hide the injuries.

“I said that Clint and I were boxing sometimes. Shit happens.”

Tony shook his head, stepping closer and moving Bruce’s arms back to his sides to examine his chest. “Clint didn’t do that. He’s not capable of it. A black eye, yeah, but nothing to this extent. Tell me the truth.”

Bruce glared at him and backed away, slapping down Tony’s probing hands. “My dad stopped by and made his views known.” Tony’s jaw dropped. “You happy now?”

“Report him.” Tony said instantly. Bruce shook his head silently and tried to push Tony out of his way. “He came on to school property and did that? Report him. He’d get put away for sure.”

“I knew you’d do this.” Bruce said, bitterly. “Just drop it, Tony.”

“I’m not dropping this! He can’t get away with abusing you like this!”

He sighed, resigned. “If we’re going to have this conversation, can be when we’re not naked and sweaty and gross? Please? I can’t get angry with you when you look like that.”

*

By the time they’d emerged from the shower, Rhodey was waiting in the kitchen. “I was going to come up, and then I thought you’d probably be… Yeah. So I just waited down here.” He said by way of explanation. “So, you gonna introduce us or what?”

Tony tutted. “Bruce, this is my best friend, James Rhodes, otherwise known as Rhodey. Rhodey, my boyfriend, Bruce Banner. Happy now?”

“Very.” Rhodey grinned. “Hi Bruce. Tony’s told me all about you.”

Bruce blushed. “I dread to think.”

“No, no, he said good things. All good things.” Rhodey was still looking at him funny, though, like he wasn’t sure this wasn’t all some big joke.

“What, Rhodey?” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “Just spit it out.”

“He’s just… You’re not… What I expected.”

Tony laughed. He’d known Rhodey for years, and he’d put up with Tony’s constant stream of girlfriends and casual fucks like a trooper. Tony would be the first to admit he had a type; throw him a leggy blonde and he’d be all over her in an instant. He was known for dating the cheerleader types, and it wasn’t really surprising that Rhodey didn’t picture him with someone like Bruce. “You know what?” Tony said with a small smile. “He’s not exactly what I imagined either.”

“So, uh…” Bruce said quickly, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. “How long have you guys been friends?”

Tony didn’t miss Bruce’s attempt to direct attention away from himself, but he humoured it. “Too fucking long.”

“Pretty much our whole lives.” Rhodey said, being boring and actually answering the question. “But yeah, I agree with Tony. Way too fucking long.”

“Rhodey was a terrible influence on me growing up.” Tony deadpanned. “He’s the reason I got sent away to boarding school.” Bruce snorted and Rhodey full on burst out laughing. “Hey! Shut up!”

Rhodey, attempting to control his snickers, called his bullshit. “The reason you got sent away to boarding school is because you emptied a load of tinned tuna into your teacher’s car’s air conditioning.”

“I didn’t know she had a seafood allergy, okay?” He protested, flushing red a little. “It was supposed to gross her out, not put her in hospital.” Bruce and Rhodey just laughed more; Tony hated his friends.

“This is so brilliant.” Rhodey said, clapping Bruce on the back. “You really must be something. Tony never gets embarrassed when I tell these stories. He usually just gets all cocky and exaggerates them as much as he can get away with.”

Bruce glanced over at his boyfriend, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Come on, Rhodey. You must have loads of stories that you really want to tell me right now.”

“I thought I’d escaped this because Howard doesn’t give a shit.” Tony moaned, pulling a face. Rhodey had a famously good memory, especially when it came to humiliating Tony, and paired with a totally captive audience? This could only go badly. “What next? You gonna pull out a shotgun and tell him you’ll kill him if he breaks my heart?”

“I’d never pull a shotgun out on Bruce. I like Bruce.” Tony flipped him off. “So when Tony was like eight, he had the biggest crush ever on Li-”

“No.”

“Lindsey Lohan.” Rhodey finished.

Tony glared at him. “I’m not having fun right now.”

“He used to watch The Parent Trap like every day.”

“Shut uuuup.”

“And then he meets her, right, at one of those stupid red carpet things that rich people get invited to. She’s eighteen and he’s like, eight. Oh! The Kid’s Choice Awards, right?” Tony just groaned in confirmation. “So he’s at the Kid’s Choice Awards and there are celebrities everywhere and he spends the entire evening following her around.”

“Please stop.” Tony said, rubbing his face with his hands. “Seriously Rhodey, not cool.”

“And then she goes up on to the stage, right? To present an award or something.” He continued, ignoring the horrified expression on Tony’s face. Bruce laughed, already seeing where this was going. “And he runs out on to the stage in front of thousands of people, and ten seconds later, he’s getting escorted outside by security.”

“I hate you.” Tony moaned. He was used to Rhodey telling embarrassing stories about him; they were best friends, and Tony was vaguely famous. People were interested. It was one thing telling stories of stupid childhood crushes and dumb moments immortalised forever on video camera, but there were stories he’d really rather Bruce not know.

Bruce and Rhodey had recovered from their fits of laughter, and Bruce was begging for more. Rhodey was happy to oblige, while Tony tried to tune them out. He thought about going to get himself a drink – he felt like he fucking deserved one, after all this – but he knew Bruce wouldn’t approve, so he just sat where he was, listening to tales of his arrogance and douchebaggery in his former years.

“… and don’t even get me started on his arrest record.” Rhodey grinned, knowing he would pique Bruce’s interest. His boyfriend was still encouraging him, both of them just taking Tony’s uneasiness for mild embarrassment.

“Stop it.” Tony said, loudly and clearly, over their mirth. “Just stop it, okay? Please.”

Bruce snorted. “Lighten up, Tony. We’re just having a bit of fun.”

“If you want to know so desperately about my arrest record, I think I’d rather tell you myself, actually, rather than it be the subject of some god damn hilarious joke.” It wasn’t even because he was ashamed of it, although he was. It was that the dumb kid who did that stuff and the guy he was now, mostly because of Bruce, weren’t the same person, and he didn’t want Bruce to think of him like that. Not anymore. He knew he was getting irrationally angry, that Rhodey was just having some fun, but it was starting to piss Tony off more than even his best friend intended.

“When I was fourteen, I got arrested for beating up this kid on my street who was making ‘Your mom’ jokes. When I was sixteen, I got my first DUI, followed by a couple of counts of disorderly conduct in the next few months.” The smiles had been wiped off their faces. Rhodey was staring down at his hands, and Bruce just looked horrified. Tony carried on anyway, figuring he might as well get it out now he’d started. His mouth was dry but he plunged on. “By that time, I’d moved on a bit, you know? There was a bit of joyriding, a couple of brawls outside of bars and clubs, street racing at one point, I think, and the crown jewel? I was out with a few friends of friends, and we got pulled over with three grams of coke in the car. I was pretty lucky, since they hadn’t passed it around to me yet, that all I had in my system was a bit of pot and a lot of vodka. They couldn’t make any possession charges stick, but after the drinking and the drugs and the violence, I got referred to this… this… whatever, it was rehab, basically. I refused to go. Howard just smoothed it all over like he does everything else, paying whatever he needs to pay to make everything disappear, so he can pretend I’m still his little golden boy.” Bruce opened his mouth, trying to say something, an apology, but Tony cut over him. “You happy now? You got your laughs? Or do you want me to keep going? Because trust me, I’ve got plenty of material.” Fuck it. He stood up and stalked towards the booze cabinet, grabbing the half empty vodka bottle from the top shelf and unscrewing the lid.

“Tony, don’t.” Bruce said, his voice shaking, as he lifted it to his lips. “You’re better than that.” He laid a hand over Tony’s and firmly pushed the bottle back on to the table. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, his fingers smoothing over the back of Tony’s hand. It was weirdly soothing.

“It’s me who should be sorry, not you.”

Tony looked up at Rhodey, who looked thoroughly ashamed, and gave him a small smile. “Nah. You weren’t to know.” He said, wishing he hadnt even mentioned it. “I’ve spent years wearing my criminal record as a badge of honour. I just… I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I don’t want you to think of me as that kind of person.” He muttered, addressing the last part to Bruce alone.

“I don’t.” He said simply, using a finger to lift Tony’s head and looking at him straight in the eye. “Because I know you’re not. You’re strong and amazing and good and I love you so much, okay?” His hand moved from supporting his chin to cupping his cheek as Bruce pulled Tony closer for a gentle, sweet kiss. Tony had never appreciated Bruce more than in that moment.

“… So I’m just gonna… leave?” Rhodey said awkwardly, as Tony’s fingers curled in Bruce’s hair. Tony ignored him, only feeling a twinge of guilt. He’d had to put up with Rhodey PDAing all over the place with girlfriends before, in a display way more graphic than this.

“I love you I love you I love you.” Tony murmured against Bruce’s lips.

“I love you too, you idiot.”

*

“We still have to talk about that, you know.” Tony pointed out, as he watched Bruce get ready for bed that evening. He gestured at his bare chest, the pale bruises barely visible in the half-light. “I’m sorry I was so aggressive this morning. I was just surprised, and shocked, and I hate seeing you hurt, seeing him get away with it.”

Bruce shrugged, folding his jeans neatly and laying them on a chair. “Honestly, it’s nice to know that you care.”

“Did you get it checked out for broken bones or anything?”

Bruce let out a short laugh. “Tony, I’m fine, I promise. It doesn’t even hurt any more.” He clambered into bed and collapsed into the mountain of pillows, letting out a deep sigh. “It’s not your fault, you know.” He added, turning on his side to face his boyfriend. They were so close, their noses were practically touching. “I know you’re blaming yourself right now, but it’s really not your fault.”

Tony frowned. “He did this because you’re with me, right? With a guy? It’s kind of my fault.”

Bruce dotted a light kiss against Tony’s lips, then touched it with his finger, telling him to be quiet. “Do you remember what I said, when we first started this?” Tony shook his head gently. “He hates me, Tony. I’m the stupid kid that he never wanted, that he got left with when my mom disappeared. He’s a washed up loser who spends his life perpetually drunk and has a habit of resorting to violence. He gave up on finding viable excuses for his anger a long time ago.”

Tony didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew Bruce didn’t want sympathy or a hollow apology or any kind of comfort for the shit he had been forced to suffer through, so he tilted his head forward a little and found Bruce’s lips with his own. It was soft and sweet and perfect, and Bruce hummed in contentment. “C’mon.” Tony murmured against his lips. “You’re the little spoon tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [ tumblr ](http://isaac-laehey.tumblr.com) aw yeah


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is for moby who has been waiting for this for a very very long time

One day, Tony took Bruce to the park. It was kind of lame, he’d be the first to admit it, but he wanted to do something that was about _them_.

Bruce had said it the previous night, just as they were settling down to bed. It was more like the early morning in reality; they’d been up for hours, talking and kissing and exchanging increasingly talented blowjobs. Tony had swallowed Bruce completely, drinking every drop like it was the god damn elixir of life, and his boyfriend had been eager to share it, licking it from his mouth in a heated kiss that had Tony’s spent cock twitching again.

He mumbled the words against Tony’s neck, their body’s pressed together as Bruce claimed the position of big spoon that night. “I want you to make love to me.”

Tony spluttered. “Now? Because my refractory period might be good, but it’s not that good, and-”

“Obviously not now.” Bruce laughed, soothing over his thoughtless panic babble. “But before we – I – go back to school. I love you, Tony. I’m ready. We’re ready.”

Tony swallowed, his throat feeling dry. This… This was huge. He knew how much this meant to Bruce, being exposed to someone in this way. He was honestly surprised that they got to blow jobs this fast. It was different to every relationship he’d ever had. The sex… it was good, yeah. The blowjobs were great, in fact. But it didn’t matter to him. He’d never been in a relationship where the other person meant so much to him “Yeah.” He said eventually. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Bruce said instantly, not a moment of hesitation in his response. “100% sure. I want this. With you.”

Tony took advantage of Bruce still being asleep when he woke up barely a few hours later, and padded down to the kitchen. He was intending to make Bruce breakfast in bed, because God, this guy had turned him so domestic, but he paused when he saw his mom’s old favourite picnic basket tucked in the back corner of the pantry. He pulled it out and blew away years’ worth of dust. He could feel his eyes watering, but he bit it back, and carried the basket out to the island in the kitchen.

The weather was beautiful, sun shining and not a cloud in sight, and Tony made his decision. Fuck if he was being sappy, they were going for a picnic and that was that. He scrounged around in the fridges, gathering a load of snacks and ingredients and dumping them on the island too. He set about making and assembling sandwiches and snacks to fill the basket, adding as an afterthought a bottle of champagne in a cool box.

Bruce still hadn’t emerged, so Tony went back to his original plan of breakfast in bed, and expertly knocked together some pancakes, piling them high with fresh fruit and syrup before carrying them back upstairs. “Wakey wakey, sleepy head.” He said, poking a still napping Bruce with his big toe. “I come bearing pancakes.”

That woke Bruce up with a start. “Oh my god, I love you.” He said, then let out a big yawn. Accepting the plate Tony handed to him, he got stuck in, moaning as he stuffed a forkful into his mouth.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “That good, huh?” He joked, settling back down into bed next to Bruce, and starting his own stack.

“I still can’t get over the fact that you can cook.” Bruce admitted, strawberry juice running down his chin. He wiped it away, blushing.

“Why is that so surprising?”

Bruce looked at him in disbelief. “Because you have a fucking personal chef, Tony, that’s why.”

“Only in New York!” He said defensively. “I come here every summer, and it was either learn to cook, live on take outs every night, or starve to death. And trust me, there’s only so many take outs you can have before you never want to touch one again.”

Bruce smiled. “Well, I’m grateful for that, because these are amazing. Everything you cook is amazing. It’s kind of a turn on.”

Tony marvelled at how far they’d come. There was a time where Bruce would have rather died before he’d have admitted something was a turn on, or would have at least blushed profusely after. Now he was just way more relaxed about them and their relationship and the sex, which just brought Tony’s mind back to what he’d said the previous night. “Domesticity kink. I’ll  bear that in mind.”

Bruce hummed, a grin spreading on his face. “You know, you never did fully complete your side of that bet.”

“Which bet?”

“You know, in that first Chemistry lesson back last fall. You bet me you’d beat me in that stupid quiz, and as far as I remember, I wiped the floor with you.”

Tony tutted. “Come off it, you got two points more than me. And in return, I cleaned our room every fucking week for an entire semester.” As far as he was concerned, that was the bet, he completed his terms, that was that.

“I seem to recall you getting cocky at one point.” Bruce teased, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “Something about a maid’s outfit?”

Tony choked on a mouthful of pancake. “Oh my god, you have got to be kidding me.” The look of horror on his face soon slid into annoyance as Bruce dissolved into laughter. “I hate you. Now come on, get up, get dressed, I have a surprise for you.”

He’d just finished putting the finishing touches to the basket when Bruce walked into the kitchen. “What’s going on? Are we going for a picnic?”

Tony looked from Bruce to the overflowing basket on the table. “Uh. Is this lame? If this is lame, we can… not. I just thought it might be romantic. I don’t know.”

“I…”

“It’s lame, isn’t it? Sorry, forget it.”

“Tony-”

“I was just trying to make today special, but it’s cool. We can stay in, watch a movie or something? Or go out for dinner? Shit, I’m so bad at this.” He flushed a deep red as Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I just… I’ve never… I don’t date. I don’t know how to do this.”

“Tony, did you make me a picnic?” Bruce said, lifting one of the flaps and looking inside. “This looks amazing, honey.” Tony gave a soft laugh. “What?”

“Did you just call me ‘honey’?” Tony watched as Bruce froze, looking at him in embarrassment. It was so damn endearing. “I didn’t realise we were at pet name territory, I’m going to have to think of something good. How about ‘sweetcheeks’?”

“Shut up.” He mumbled. “You didn’t have to.”

Tony knew he wasn’t talking about the nickname any more, and he shrugged. “I wanted to. I know you think this isn’t a big deal for me because I spent three years fucking whatever was willing and close enough, but doing this? With you? It’s huge, Bruce.”

As Tony drove away from the bustle of the beaches, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing across at Bruce. He looked so calm, so confident – a total contrast to the boy Tony had first met mere months ago. Tony wondered if it was as obvious how much he’d been changed. Bruce made him a better person, that was for sure. He gave a shit about his wellbeing in a way no-one else had, not even Tony himself. It was a weird experience, being with someone who actually cared about him. Bruce caught him looking and returned his smile, flushing a little but not letting it drop. Neither of them felt a need to speak; they just sat together in silence, happy and in love.

“This place is amazing, Tony.” Bruce murmured when Tony parked up. He grinned, walking around to hold the door open with a flourish.

“My mom used to bring me here a lot.” Tony shrugged, unloading the frankly ridiculous picnic basket from the trunk. Maybe he went a little overboard on making stuff that morning. “It was our favourite place to escape to when Howard was being a fuckwad.”

Bruce grabbed the picnic blanket and the drinks cooler and followed him silently down to where a small river trickled lazily through a light spattering of trees. It was quiet, away from the main path and the hordes of young parents desperately trying to distract their children in the sunshine. Tony realised it was the first time that he and Bruce had truly been alone together. Peace was hard to come by at school, the constant threat of people knocking or Clint skipping the niceties all together and just bursting in affecting how they could act around each other. Now, they were free to be as disgustingly couple-y as they wanted with no-one around to stop them.

Tony dropped the basket unceremoniously and, with his hands cupping either side of Bruce’s face, pulled him in for a kiss. It wasn’t sexy or hot or messy or passionate, but as they stood close, dry lips pressed together awkwardly, Tony knew he was well and truly sunk.

“Was there a reason for that?” Bruce asked as he eventually pulled away, a bemused look on his face.

“I love you.” Tony replied honestly, and took the picnic blanket from Bruce’s hands and shook it out, laying it across the damp grass. He heaved the basket over as well, and dumped it on one corner of the rug, hoping it would hold it down and stop it being picked up by the light breeze. He patted the space beside him, having to squint as he looked up at Bruce because the sun was lighting him up from behind.

“You know, Tony,” Bruce said as he obliged his boyfriend and sunk into the old blanket. “Despite what everyone says, you are the sappiest, most romantic person I’ve ever met.”

“Shh!” Tony hissed, looking around in a panic. “Swear you’ll take this secret with you to the grave.” Bruce burst out laughing, but Tony held his gaze, still looking deadly serious. “Swear it.”

“I swear.” Bruce managed between snorts of laughter. “You’re a complete dork, Tony Stark.”

Tony’s attempt at staying poker faced failed miserably, and he cracked a smile. “It’s really hard to be an asshole around you, you know that? Even when I was trying to be an asshole, back when I was being all judgemental and rude, something about you was just different.” Bruce looked so cute, the early summer sun lighting up his curls like some ridiculous fluffy halo; it took all of Tony’s power to not tackle him to the floor and just ravish him. He wanted to put hickeys all over Bruce’s body, make everyone know that Bruce was his, and his alone.

He had to resist though – if they got carried away now, they’d never get around to food, and Tony put a lot of effort into all the crap he’d piled into the basket. Besides, he was starving, and not just for Bruce. “I wasn’t really sure what you liked.” He explained, pulling the wicker lid back on the basket. “So I just made a load of stuff. Vegetarian, obviously.”

“You made all this?” Bruce asked in disbelief, sitting up in order to paw through the basket in curiosity. “You really did not need to do this.” He said quietly, looking up at Tony in disbelief. “And you also did not need to deprive yourself of meat just for my benefit.”

Tony shrugged. He wasn’t overly bothered about the meat content of his food, to be honest. “Some of it I scrounged from the kitchen, like these insanely good cheese sticks. But yeah, I made most of it.”

“Yeah, okay, you did not make this quiche this morning.” Bruce said, rolling his eyes as he pulled the plate out gingerly. “Looks amazing though.” Tony flushed and mumbled something almost incoherent about not being able to sleep, and Bruce almost dropped it. “Seriously, Tony? You…” Bruce looked lost for words, his eyes flicking between Tony’s sheepish face and the basket full of snacks and sandwiches and whatever else Tony could get his hands on.

“It’s just a quiche.” Tony said under his breath. “No need to get all emotional about it.”

Bruce blinked and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well,” He joked. “You underestimated how much I love quiche.”

He carried on rifling through the basket, pulling bits out and laying them on the blanket beside them. “Pasta salad. Potato salad. Normal salad. Cous cous. You did not make me a chocolate cake.” Tony didn’t say anything, just stared at the blanket by his feet. He was starting to feel like he went overboard, and cursed his insomnia or nerves or whatever it was that meant he was awake at 5am making picnic food. “Tony! You didn’t have to go to this much effort. I want to have sex with you either way you know.”

“I wanted today to be about more than just the sex, though. I get it’s a big deal for you, you’re a virgin, that’s cool. But in the end, sex is sex. It’s going to happen again. Hopefully, it will happen again with me. So I… I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me, Bruce.” Tony said quietly. Leaning over and pulling the drinks cooler towards him, he pulled out the champagne he’d put in there that morning and tilted it towards Bruce, who nodded. “I wasn’t risking actual champagne flutes, so we’ve got plastic cups.” He said, and popped the cork on the bottle. Bruce laughed as Tony hand him a pink cup. “To us.” Tony said simply, and they clinked glasses.

“To us.” Bruce agreed, and took a sip. “I don’t want to go back to school without you.” He muttered, watching as Tony helped himself to a pile of food. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“I doubt it. He thinks me liking dick will reflect badly on the company. You know, stuffy old investors being horrified by my life choices or whatever.” Even saying the words hurt, but Tony knew he didn’t really have much to complain about it. Yeah, his father had tried as hard as he could to disown him without the media finding out, but at least he just left him alone for the most of it. What Bruce had to endure… His problems weren’t even in the same league.

Bruce, to Tony’s surprise, snorted. “What kind of world does he live in?” Tony frowned, not following, and he continued. “Like, it’s not perfect, but as a whole, our society is increasingly accepting of people being gay. If it comes out that he took you out of school and hid you three thousand miles away from your boyfriend so it wouldn’t reflect badly on him, there would be a media outrage.”

Tony hadn’t considered that. “So what are you suggesting? That I should go to the press?” He was pretty sure that would be the last straw for Howard, and Tony doesn’t relish the prospect.

“I didn’t say that.” Bruce said carefully. “I’m just pointing out that he’s looking at this from the complete wrong angle, and there’s probably an opportunity to use your ill-gotten fame to put the ball back in your court.”

Tony thinks it through for a moment around a large bite of cheese sandwich. “Do you know Peter Parker?” He asked, thinking out loud a little. Bruce shook his head. “He’s a sophomore, I think he rooms up on the fourth floor. Aspiring photographer slash journalist. He has this blog, it’s mainly hipster pictures of lakes or whatever, but it’s pretty popular. Mainly because people know he goes to the same school as me, and sometimes I let him get free exclusives. I wouldn’t walk to talk to the press, because however much I hate Howard sometimes, I don’t really want to ruin his life.”

“Stark Industries is your trust fund too, right?” Bruce said, laughing.

“Right.” Tony grinned. “Got to make sure I can maintain the lifestyle. But maybe we could just… use Parker as leverage, put the pressure on a little bit.”

“Tony, if he called your bluff, that would out you to the entire world.” Bruce pointed out, but Tony had already thought of that. He refused to live in hiding for his whole life, especially since he was intending to spend as much of that time as possible with Bruce.

“This isn’t a short term thing for me.” Tony said quietly, meeting Bruce’s eye. “I’m yours for as long as you can put up with me, you know that, right? I’m not planning to live my whole life pretending to be someone I’m not, so surely it’s better to do it now than wait until later. The bigger question is, do you want this?” Bruce tried to respond, but Tony saw his lip tremble. “If we do this, there’s no going back.”

The letter still plagued him. Bruce didn’t want the media attention or the cameras or the constant watchdogs picking apart his every move. It was a shitty way to live your life. Bruce didn’t respond instantly, and Tony was panicking. The voice in his head that had warned him not to get too attached, not to let himself get carried away, but he’d ignored it and now Bruce was- “Of course I want this.” He said quietly but firmly, and Tony could tell he meant it. “It’s going to take some getting used to, but you’re worth it, Tony.”

“Not me. Us. We’re worth it.” Tony corrected, unable to stop himself from smiling like a fool.

There was so much food, but they made a valiant effort. Bruce tried to decline a second slice of chocolate cake, but he couldn't resist it when Tony broke it into little chunks and fed it to him, getting chocolate frosting all over his fingers. It was weirdly intimate, the feeling of Bruce's lips and teeth and tongue licking off the chocolate, and it pulled Tony from where they were to what they were planning to do that night. He hated to admit it, but he was nervous. What he'd said to Bruce about the sex meaning a lot to him was true. It was his first time in some ways; first time with a guy, first time with someone he loved... First time in months. He was terrified he would do something wrong, hurt Bruce.

They stayed to watch the sunset behind the trees lining the opposing bank of the river, orange light reflecting in the water. Somehow, the view was much nicer thanks to the warm body curled into Tony's side, like it was there for them and them alone. "We should go home." Bruce said quietly as it finally disappeared. Tony couldn't help but agree. It was starting to get cold, so he shrugged off his shirt and wrapped it around Bruce's shoulders.  "Now you're going to get cold." He protested, eyeing what remained of Tony's clothes, a tight wife beater and jeans. Goose pimples were rising on his arms already, but tony ignored them.

"I'm fine." He shrugged, deciding not to mention how much he loved seeing Bruce wearing his clothes. They slowly made their way back to the car, continually distracted by taking selfies with their faces smooshed together in front of cool trees or buildings or just because they felt like it. But the mementos were pointless - this day would refuse to be forgotten.

It felt like an age until they reached the house. Tony was willing the drive to go faster, speeding along narrow lanes in a bid to reduce the pain felt in waiting, but as soon as they stepped into the house, the nerves crashed over him once again. There was an awkward silence in which one waited for the other to say something, but neither did. It lasted about ten seconds before Bruce pushed Tony forcefully against the hallway wall and pinned him there, lips exploring, tasting, teasing while Tony's hands touched anything they could find. "God, Tony..." Bruce moaned into his neck. "I want this. Now. Please. I want you to... To..."

"Sex you up?"

Tony laughed as Bruce swatted him across the head lightly. "But yeah." Bruce said, barely even blushing. "C'mon, Tony..."

Tony wanted to know where Bruce learned how to make his voice do that because there was no way that was natural talent. He suspected Clint. Or possibly Natasha. Maybe Pepper. He was so screwed. He grabbed Bruce by the wrist and they basically ran up the stairs to the bedroom, only getting distracted to abandon shoes and then shirts as they got closer to the top.

They reached their room, clad in pants and not much else, and Bruce's hands began to fumble with Tony's belt buckle. He was so eager, it was kind of frightening. "Bruce, can you just..." He said awkwardly. He didn’t want Bruce to get the wrong impression, because he really, really did want to have sex with him, but something about this was making him feel weird and he wanted their first time to be amazing for him as well as Bruce.

He dropped his hands from Tony's jeans, looking confused. "Am I doing something wrong?" He asked, wide, innocent eyes looking right into Tony's.

"Not wrong," Tony said, trying to work out the best way to express this. "Just... Slow down. We've got all night, Bruce, there's no rush."

He took a step back, the red tint coming back to his cheeks. Tony tried not to laugh as he thought about how this was the awkward first time he never got. "Just relax." He said, trying for reassuring, but from the look Bruce gave him was probably closer to patronising. "Lie down with me." He tried again, making himself comfortable and patting the space beside him. "There's more to sex than just sex."

Bruce, to Tony's surprise, laughed. "Are you telling this to me or to yourself?"

"What?"

"Come off it, Tony. You're meant to be the experienced party here and you're more nervous than I am." Bruce did lie down though, his hand reaching for Tony's as they lay together. "It's sex. I'm a virgin. There's only so bad it can possibly get."

Bruce was right. Tony was getting unnecessarily anxious about making everything perfect, he was forgetting the most important thing - nothing they ever do goes to plan anyway. "You sure you want to do it this way around?" Tony asked, cringing at the words as they left his mouth, but Bruce nodded.

"I want... I want to feel you." He said quietly. The blush was back.

Tony's knowledge of gay sex came from porn and an extensive Google search history, which rendered his experience entirely theoretical, but he knew that Bruce really needed to relax. He made the first move, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down his legs, and followed them with his underwear. Once he'd successfully kicked them off, he turned to Bruce, who was almost naked too.

"I always thought being exposed like this would be embarrassing." Bruce confessed with a small smile. "But you just make me feel like... Like I'm the most beautiful thing you've ever seen."

"Well, maybe that's because you are." He said absently, not really focussing on the words until after he’d said them. He was surprised at how true it was.

Bruce laughed. "I have it on very good authority that you've slept with supermodels, Tony."

"I have, yeah." He said, peppering kisses down the newly exposed skin. "And they were very beautiful. But not this beautiful."

“You’re  ridiculous.” Bruce muttered, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Tony reached over to his bed side table and grabbed a condom and the bottle of lube. “We should let Barton know this came in handy.” Tony joked as he flipped the lid. “This can… Uh, it feels kind of weird. Just warning you.”

Bruce nodded in answer to a question that hadn’t been asked, and Tony took that as a signal that he was okay to start. He squirted some lube on to his fingers, far more than was strictly necessary, but he figured they were better safe than sorry, and he knew from his limited solo experience that it was kind of unpleasant if you were ungenerous on the lube.

“Is this okay?” Tony asked one last time, and Bruce groaned.

“Tony, I want this. Of course it’s okay, and if for any reason it isn’t, I will tell you, I promise.” He said, rolling his eyes. Tony marvelled at how Bruce still managed to sound authoritative when he was so hard. “Oh god.” Bruce hissed as Tony pressed his index finger inside him. “I’m fine, Tony, don’t you dare pull out. It’s just-” His words broke off as Tony curled the finger, drawing a whimper from Bruce’s wet, parted lips. “God, weird doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He breathed.

Tony thought back to his first time fingering himself, and how the whole thing became way more pleasant when he was jacking himself off at the same time. Bruce jumped as Tony took him awkwardly in his left hand. “Don’t think about it too much.” Tony advised, a small smile playing on his lips. “Am I okay to add another finger?”

Bruce nodded hastily, and Tony obliged, sliding his middle finger alongside the first. Bruce was tight around his fingers, and he gasped with pain as Tony began to move inside him. “I’m fine!” He said immediately. “It… It hurts, but it’s a good hurt, you know?”

“I know.” Tony grinned suggestively, and Bruce’s mouth opened even wider.

“You’ve- Someone’s… Done this? To you?” He asked, his words catching. Tony wondered if it was jealousy or disbelief.

“Nah, but you know me.” He said mischievously. “I like to learn by hands-on experience.”

His timing was perfect. Just as Bruce began to splutter at the image of his boyfriend stretching himself out on his fingers, Tony found what he’d been looking for. He brushed against Bruce’s prostate again, causing another deep, guttural noise. “W-Was that-” Bruce attempted to get the words out, but Tony cut him off by rubbing against the sensitive nub once more, dissolving the words into strings of expletives.

“That would be your prostate, yeah.” He grinned. He was relieved, if he was going to be honest. He’d spent so many hours terrified that he wouldn’t be able to make it feel good for Bruce, that he’d ruin their first time because he didn’t really know what he was doing. He hadn’t felt like this since he was fifteen, but somehow, acting all stupidly virginal with Bruce felt right.

“Tony, I- I think I’m ready.” Tony laughed out loud, and Bruce blushed. “What?” He demanded. Tony felt bad for laughing; no-one liked to be laughed at in bed.

“Let me give you a third finger, okay?” He said. He slowed down his stroking, not wanting Bruce to be too close to the edge before they even got to have sex. “There’s no rush, remember? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Bruce snorted. “Flattering yourself much?” But he looked at Tony again, and nodded. “Then I want another finger. Please.”

Who was Tony to deny him such a simple request? He added some more lube as he slipped his hand out, just in case, then pushed back with three fingers. It wasn’t a whimper or a cry of pain this time, but a moan. A god damn sexy moan that had Tony, entirely selfishly, moving his left hand from Bruce’s dick to his own, and jerking it roughly. “Jesus, you look so hot.” He said, his words shaky. “How do you even manage to look that hot?”

“Yoga.”

 Tony’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Of course not.” Bruce said with a grin, settling himself further into the pillows to give Tony more room. The urge to just yank his fingers out and fuck was almost too hard to resist, but he was determined not to hurt Bruce, and besides, this was weirdly intimate in a way Tony hadn’t experienced before. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was caring for Bruce, or because everything just meant more with him than it had with the others, but it was awesome.

“Tony, shit, I swear if you don’t get your dick in me right now, I’m going to come from your fingers.” Bruce said a minute or so later, his voice shaking. “C’mon, I want you, please.”

The way Bruce’s voice cracked on the please made Tony’s mind up for him. He tore open a condom having ignored the whimper that escaped from Bruce’s mouth as he withdrew his fingers. Tony tried to get it on as fast as he could and was failing miserably. “Damn it! Are you kidding me?” Bruce looked at him curiously as he reached across to grab a new one, the first thrown on to the floor in frustration. “My hands are actually shaking right now.” He confessed, holding one up for Bruce to see the tremble. “You’re ruining me.”

Bruce smiled and sat up, taking the condom from Tony and opening it calmly. “It’s okay, honey. Let me.” Tony bit his lip as Bruce rolled the condom down his dick gently. “You’re adorable.”

“Shut up.” Tony mumbled. He knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed, but he also shouldn’t be acting so virginal, God. Bruce was way more put together than he was. “I don’t even know wh-”

Bruce silenced him with a soft kiss, his hand cupping his cheek and holding them together. “Just relax and enjoy yourself, okay?” He murmured against Tony’s lips. “You’re going to do great.”

Deep breath. “Is this okay?” He asked, determined to keep his voice level. “Promise me you’ll-”

“Tell you if you hurt me, I will, I swear. Trust me. Trust you.” Bruce was starting to sound a little exasperated – bemused, but exasperated – at his freaking out, and Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Y-Yeah. Okay.” He flipped the cap of the bottle of lube open again and coated himself liberally with it, the air filling with weird squelching noises. “Ready?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

A stream of “Oh God oh God oh God” spilled from Bruce’s mouth as Tony slid inside, and even he struggled to hold back the gasp. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it was so tight and hot and God, it was going to be difficult to not come in like, four seconds.

His fingers were digging into Bruce’s hips hard in an attempt to anchor himself to something as he buried himself in his boyfriend’s ass, pausing to let them both adjust. “You feel so…” Bruce started, his eyes blown wide as they met Tony’s.

“Big?” He smirked, rolling his hips slightly.

“Y-Yeah.” He said, his voice catching as Tony moved slightly again.

“Am I okay to move?” Tony asked, praying that the answer was yes because his dick felt like it was about to explode before they even got around to having sex. Bruce nodded, not able to trust his voice to not waver.

Bruce let out a tiny whimper as Tony pulled out and then slowly slid his hips flush against Bruce’s once more. “You okay?” Tony asked reflexively.

“Yeah, I just… I’m not made of china, you know.” He said, canting back to get something, anything, more. “Stop being so cautious, c’mon.”

Tony bit down softly on the soft flesh between Bruce’s neck and shoulder as he gave in to his baser instincts. Bruce gasped out but Tony ignored it, repeating the same movement, faster, harder each time. It didn’t take long before Bruce was writhing under him, babbling his name mixed with an impressive amount of expletives and the odd ‘please’. Tony was so close, but he was determined to hold out, to make this good for Bruce.

“T-Tony…” He stuttered, forcing the word out between deep moans. “Tony, I need you to… O-Oh!”

Tony knew what he needed, and reached between them to awkwardly wrap his fist loosely around Bruce’s cock. One, two, three jerks and he was coming, covering the gap between them with hot, sticky white.

That was all it took to drive Tony over the edge too, leaving them both sweaty and panting. “O-Oh my god.” Bruce breathed, looking at his boyfriend with wide eyes. “That was…”

“Awesome?”

Bruce nodded. There was no other word for it. “That was awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theY DID THE DO EVENTUALLY
> 
> oh man i havent done first times in ages so i hope this didnt totally suck
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://isaac-laehey.tumblr.com) as per usual


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little late in the day, I'm on holiday and the internet isn't great.

There was something amazingly cliché about that last goodbye kiss at the airport.

Tony was waving Bruce through the departures gate, and smiling despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to follow his boyfriend to the other side of the country, when Bruce stopped in his tracks and turned back. Pressing through the throngs of people all moving the opposite direction, he found his way back to Tony and kissed him.

It was tender yet passionate, romantic but sexy, and _God,_ Bruce was a fast learner, going from barely any experience to this remarkable display of talent in just a few short months. Tony didn't even care that people were looking any more, and reciprocated eagerly. “I love you so much.” He said softly, their lips barely parted.

Bruce’s mouth curved into a smirk; “I completely ruined you, didn't I? All that time spent building up your reputation and I turned you into a massive sap.” Tony pouted; Bruce laughed. “I’m really going to miss you, Tony.”

“Well, hopefully I’ll be back soon.” He said, trying his best to be optimistic. Their sketchy plan could either work beautifully or backfire in the most colossal way, and Tony wasn’t exactly renowned for being a glass half full kind of guy.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I'm just… I’m scared you're going to regret it.” Bruce confessed, the look of doubt on his face unmistakeable. “And then you'll always hold it against me and then we’ll break up and you’ll hate me and everything will fall to shit.”

Tony groaned; they'd been through this at least four times now, yet Bruce was still resistant to the idea that Tony didn't give a fuck what everyone else thought, what the press thought, what his fans thought, or more importantly, what his father thought. “Bruce, listen to me. You're the only person on this whole fucking planet I give a shit about-”

“Well, that's not true.” Bruce said, rolling his eyes. “But go on.” He added hastily, seeing the look on Tony's face.

“You're the only person on this planet that I give a shit about, and... and... I totally had a speech planned and you ruined it.” Bruce laughed, and Tony had to smile too, despite his ruined moment. “Basically I love you and I always will and I will never ever regret refusing to stay quiet about what we have and who we are.”

“You’re _such_ a sap.”

Tony pouted. “You’re such a jackass. Now, go. You’re going to miss your flight if you don’t hurry.” Neither of them pointed out that they’d both much prefer Bruce to miss his flight. “And at least we can talk now.”

The acquisition of a couple of pay as you go burner cells was a genius idea on Bruce’s part, and had the added advantage of making Tony feel like a seasoned criminal.  It was weird to use a phone that had actual buttons and no predictive texting, but he was willing to even descend to the levels of some shitty Nokia brick that they picked up in Wal-Mart if it meant that they could stay in touch.

“Besides,” Bruce had pointed out, a small grin playing on his lips. “How exactly are we going to take down the homophobes if we can’t co-ordinate our battle plans?”

Tony was determined to not do anything embarrassing like get emotional or, heaven forbid, start crying as he waved Bruce off for good this time, but it was proving stupidly difficult. The small sliver of hope that they could bullshit their way through this and actually see each other soon made the goodbye somehow even harder to face.

He’d barely left the terminal before he was digging out Rhodey’s number and punching ‘Dial’.

“What’s up, Stark?” He answered on the third ring. “Your boy gone?”

“You want to go and do something? I think I deserve a treat of some kind.”

Rhodey hummed in deliberation. “What kind of treat? Because usually when you say that, you mean a strip club, but I feel like you’re not going to go for that right now.”

“Your feeling was correct for once, Rhodes.” He said flatly. He liked Rhodey, he really did, but sometimes he could be an insensitive ass. Then again, so could Tony. He supposed that was why they were friends. “I don’t know. A movie or something? We could go loiter in the mall like some stereotypical delinquent teens.”

“Sounds perfectly tragic. I’ll be there when I’ve finished watching this Entertainment News special about your new girlfriend.” He replied nonchalantly, then hung up, leaving the tone beeping in Tony’s ear.

“What?” Tony hissed into the dead connection, hitting redial as fast as he could. It kept going to voicemail.

He was going to murder his father.

The first thing Tony saw when he got home and flipped the channel to the shitty entertainment show that he, as a matter of principle, never watched, was a photograph of two ten year olds getting married with a gummy ring. He swore fluently. There was no place these pictures could be coming from other than Howard himself, unless Pepper felt the need to ride the popularity rollercoaster as far as she could. Which Tony doubted greatly.

**Hope you had a good flight. Just letting you know there are some stupid as fuck photographs of ten year old Tony and Pepper getting fake married circulating the internet today. I swear it’s not legit. The stuffed bear who was meant to be officiating the ceremony lied about being ordained. Just thought I should let you know.**

**About the photos, that is.**

**Not about my compulsively lying teddy bear.**

Rhodey arrived barely five minutes after the special had ended, bearing a large bottle of whiskey. “Here, Stark. We’re going to sit around and cry about your lame boyfriend problems and get drunk and all in all act completely pathetic. Because I am an amazing friend.”

They were barely three measures in when Tony collapsed back into the cushions, rubbing his face with his hands. “This is so fucked up.” He moaned, staring blankly at the expanse of empty wall opposite him. “First Bruce, and now Pepper… You better get away Rhodes, before I ruin your life, too.”

“Jesus, Stark. No need to be so melodramatic.” He laughed, setting his glass down on the coffee table. “You haven’t ruined anyone’s life.”

“But Pepper-”

“Pepper is probably mightily pissed, yes, but it’s hardly the first time she’s been said to be involved in your shenanigans, is it?” Tony thought about it, and realised Rhodey was right. Remembering a time where Pepper actually _had_ been involved in his shenanigans was a more difficult task. “Me, Pepper, Rogers, and I imagine Bruce too… We all accept that sometimes being friends with you can get us in trouble, but we still stick around, okay? You know why?”

“Because I make fantastic cocktails?”

“Because under all your bullshit, you’re actually a pretty good person.”

Tony considered that for a moment, then snorted. “Oh man, you are so drunk.”

*

It was only a few days later that his father showed up on the doorstep.

“How _dare_ you-”

Tony cut him off with a dark, bitter laugh, resisting the urge to slam the door in his face. “How dare _I_? After everything you’ve done in the last couple of weeks, you’re the one asking how dare _I_? Unbe-fucking-lievable.”

The silence gave Tony a great sense of satisfaction; he knew his father was seething to the point he couldn’t even form words. After several tense seconds, Howard merely pushed up aside and barged through the door. He wasn’t used to people standing in his way, literally or metaphorically, but then again, neither was Tony. Like father, like son.

“You’re not-” He spluttered, his usual collected demeanour in shatters as he stood in the vast entrance hall. “I can shut down that idiot boy’s blog in an instant.” He threatened, voice shaking. Tony didn’t doubt it; it was time to up the stakes.

“Oh, I imagine you can.” He said airily, years of bullshitting to his teachers giving him plenty of practice at keeping his tone mild while his father just got more and more irate. “But Parker is just a jumping off point. I mean, Teen Vogue have been hounding me for a shoot and interview for months now…”

A nerve in Howard’s temple twitched.

Yes, okay, he was basically blackmailing his own father and yes, he did feel genuinely quite shitty about it but, on the other hand, it wasn’t just his son’s life that Howard was fucking around with. Once he had started dragging Bruce and Pepper into it, that was a step too far.  He waited patiently for a response, knowing he’d effectively stuck his father right between a rock and a smaller but equally as hard (at least in his eyes) rock. He wasn’t even lying about the Teen Vogue thing; sometimes, he really hated his life.

When Howard began talking again, he’d taken a different tact. His voice was calmer, but nothing could hide the furious flush in his cheeks. “I’m just trying to protect you, Tony. I don’t want you to make a mistake, do something you’ll regret when you’re older.”

“I’m not going to-” But he stopped talking, knowing that Howard would only disregard his opinion anyway. He famously trusted only his own ‘good’ judgement, and wasn’t usually one for taking other people’s views into account. “Didn’t you like him?” He said instead, a look of false innocence on his face as he took a step towards his father. Howard scowled. “I mean, you seemed to like him enough when you offered to pay $30,000 for his school fees. In fact, if I remember correctly, you seemed to think that he was a good influence on me.”

“He… Yes, well-”

“You need to wise up, _Dad_.” He said, his voice displaying only the vaguest hints of danger. “I don’t care if the entire world knows I _love_ Bruce, and neither should you.” Howard tutted dismissively at the L word, but Tony ignored him; he _knew_ how he felt. “What you should really be worried about is everyone finding out that you’re a homophobic asshole. I mean, I know you don’t care about me, but I think you do care about your share prices.” His sentence was punctuated with a sharp crack, and Tony swore. Howard had slapped him clean across the face.

He stared at his son for a second, his mouth gaping, though out of shock at what he’d done or out of anger, Tony neither knew nor cared. He recovered quickly though, and pushed past Tony without saying another word, slamming the door behind him.

“Well.” Tony said aloud, a small smile on his face despite his stinging cheek. “That certainly could have gone worse.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to Bruce, saying that his father had flipped out exactly as they’d hoped and everything was going according to their vague idea of a plan.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Tony heard from Howard again. Tony’s phone rang around noon, waking him up; his father apparently didn’t have the nerve to meet him face to face this time. “Anthony.” Howard said stiffly, not a trace of emotion in his voice.

“Howard.” He responded in a parody of that same wooden tone. Howard ignored it.

“I have considered this situation carefully and have decided that you must return to school.” He said, as if it was Tony who was protesting this the whole time. “You will fly back this evening, and _will_ be attending lessons tomorrow, do you understand?”

He managed, just, to not make any derisive noise. So Howard was going to pretend that this was _Tony’s_ doing, that Tony had elected to exile himself to the other side of the country. “Yes, I understand.” He said flatly, keeping himself in check. The things he did for Bruce; god, his father was unbelievable. “Have I got plane tickets, or…”

“The jet will be with you shortly.” He said crisply.

Of course it would be. It could be spared with no problems when Howard thought the world might be watching. The hypocrisy made Tony’s skin crawl.

*

 **Guess who’s back?** Tony texted Bruce as soon as the helicopter he’d got from the airport, courtesy again of Howard, landed on the school field. It was much cooler in New York than it had been in California, and he was feeling a little underdressed in his short sleeves. Luckily, his father’s skin crawling generosity had extended as far as someone to sort his luggage out for him, so he just snatched up his backpack and hurried towards the school. He was probably meant to go and see Principal Fury, but that could wait.

 **I’m going to take a wild guess and say the real Slim Shady.** Bruce replied, and Tony laughed.

 **Not quite.** He texted back as he took the stairs two at a time, racing up to the third floor as quickly as he could. He nearly mowed down some poor freshman as he tore around the corner, but he just didn’t care. **Knock knock.**

He heard Bruce cry ‘No way’ from inside the room and hurried to assume a careless air as he leant casually against the corridor wall. Bruce opened the door with caution, then swore loudly. “You fucking _asshole_ -” He started, looking like he simultaneously wanted to give Tony a fair piece of his mind for not telling him sooner that he was coming back and push him against a wall and make out with him, and he just couldn’t pick which one to do first.

“Fine, well, I'll just go then, shall I?” Tony smirked, making to turn away, but Bruce grabbed him by the collar and pulled him with surprising strength, causing him to stumble over the threshold. “Jesus, Bruce -” He started, but was cut off as Bruce kicked the door shut behind them and crashed their lips together. Hands tangled in Tony’s hair, Bruce manoeuvred them both back until Tony was flat against the wall. “God, I’ve got you hooked.” Tony said when they came up for air. “If this is what you’re like after a few days, I’d hate to see you after a month. Remind me to never let you get blue balls.”

“That really…” Bruce growled quietly, lips so close to Tony’s ear that he could feel the breath on his neck. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Tony’s dick, already starting to stir, twitched in his pants. “C’mon, Bruce, don’t do this to me.” Tony pleaded. He knew that Bruce knew that he would be as hard as a rock in seconds if he kept on like that, and Tony also had a sneaking suspicion that Bruce didn’t intend to do anything about it, other than being a massive tease; it was highly unlikely that Bruce was going to be down for sex in their dorm room, especially after the episode they’d just been through. Apparently he was wrong, however, as Tony’s attempt to verbalise this thought process was swiftly distracted by Bruce’s lips trailing down his neck and pressing into the sweet spot around his collarbone.

Tony would go on to vehemently deny the whimper that escaped his lips.

Pushing his shirt aside, Bruce found a safe, easily concealable spot of skin across Tony’s shoulder that he proceeded to thoroughly attack, lips and teeth alternating between licks and bites and sucks, like he was taking all his anger and frustration out on that one throbbing spot of flesh. Tony was so undeniably hard. “Shit shit shit shit!” Tony moaned, his hands grabbing at Bruce’s ass as his dick throbbed, being completely and utterly ignored by his boyfriend sucking a huge hickey into his skin. “C’mon Bruce, you can’t just... Nggguh!” His attempt to reach down and drop his pants, hoping to get a hand into his boxers, was ruined by Bruce’s vice like grip around his wrists and a deep growl. The meaning was clear. “B-Bruce-” He gasped, as he gave one last, harsh bite and removed his mouth from Tony’s neck. It fucking hurt, in the best kind of way, and he was so hard he thought he might cry. “Please tell me you’re going to put that mouth to better use elsewhere.”

“Depends how much you want it.” The grin on Bruce’s face was pure evil. Tony Stark, resort to begging? Not going to happen.

With his free hand, Bruce trailed light fingers down his own stomach, lifting the hem of his shirt just enough for Tony to see the patch of dark hair disappearing under the waistband of his trousers. He swallowed thickly. “Come on, Tony…” Bruce coaxed, his eyes lit up with mischief and arousal, and tony had to bite his lip to hold back the sound of frustration threatening to spill out. He unfastened the button and thrust the material, underwear and all, half way down his thighs, and Tony whined.

“Bruce, I’m going to come in my pants in a minute.” He said desperately, seriously wishing that he was exaggerating. He wasn’t. Bruce ignored him, but started to stroke his dick slowly, never breaking eye contact with Tony. “Please-” He moaned, and Bruce smirked. “Bruce, o-oh God… Please… I want it s-so bad.” There wasn’t even enough time to be embarrassed by how slutty he’d sounded before Bruce had dropped to his knees. He shoved his pants down just enough to extract his cock before Bruce, with a look that clearly said ‘hands off’, sunk his lips around the hot, hard flesh.

Yeah, no, this really wasn’t going to last long. Bruce, who, of course, was amazing at everything, had very quickly become incredibly talented at giving blowjobs, which was both a blessing and a curse to Tony. It was embarrassingly soon that he had his hands twisted in Bruce’s hair, tugging sharply to warn him he was about to come, but Bruce took it entirely in his stride, and with one final sharp suck, Tony was coming hard down his throat.

“I created a monster.” Tony joked as Bruce got to his feet, wiping his mouth with a look of triumph on his face.

“Yeah, you did. Tony Stark doesn’t beg, my ass.”

Once Tony had repaid the favour and they’d both cleaned up a little, Bruce sank into his chair and looked across at Tony. "You know, I was enjoying having a room to myself." Bruce said, grinning. "It was lovely and quiet without your shit music blasting out in the middle of the night."

"Yeah well," Tony said, collapsing on to his bed, not really trusting his legs to support him much longer. "At least we'll never have to worry about living together. I mean, if I managed to put up with all your snoring this year, I'm pretty sure I can handle anything."

" _My_ snoring? I managed to put up with your high maintenance hair care routine, being sexiled at least once and the frankly nightmarish stench of your soccer stuff that you're too high and mighty to wash yourself. Like, do you even know how to use a tumble-dryer?" Bruce retorted, pretending to sound insulted, but the light in his eyes gave him away. Tony ignored him pointedly, but when Bruce spoke again, it was softer, more careful. "Okay but seriously... Living together?"

Tony was still so bad at reading Bruce. He'd thought about it so much over the last few weeks - going to college together, getting a little apartment somewhere and basically just being painfully disgustingly adorable. But now Bruce was looking at him like he'd lost it, like he had to be joking, and Tony didn't know what to think. He knew it was ridiculous, planning that far in the future, but it was impossible for him now to picture a future that Bruce wasn't a part of. "Oh. Um. Well."

"You want that?"

Tony looked at his feet and cursed his stupid, _stupid_ mouth. But the cat was out of the bag now, so what was the point in hiding? "Yeah." He said truthfully. "Yeah. That's exactly what I want." Bruce looked suitably shocked, and Tony hastened to explain. "Obviously only if that's what you want, too. I mean, it's... It's stupid, okay, ignore me."

There was a moment's silence where Tony swore he could hear his heart pounding in his chest, before Bruce spoke again. "You meant it, didn't you?" He asked quietly, moving to sit next to Tony. "When you said that you loved me."

Tony, who was not expecting this at all, did a double take. "What? Yes, of course I did." Bruce gave him a soft smile. "You didn't believe me?"

The sheepish look on Bruce's face answered that question before he had opened his mouth. "I wanted to."

"You're an idiot."

"I know."

"Seriously. Like an actual full blown idiot." Tony couldn't stop himself smiling. It was like no matter who or what tried to keep them apart, as long as they had each other, they'd be okay. "I love you a lot. And I know that sounds dumb because we're barely more than kids and in the grand scheme of things we really haven't known each other long but I love you." Tony was totally aware that he was kind of ranting and Bruce had that adorably bemused expression on his face and yeah, he was making a fool of himself but he just really couldn't bring himself to care. “You just... You make me a better person." He concluded lamely, returning to staring at the carpet in embarrassment as his cheeks flushed a deep red.

Bruce lifted his chin with a single finger and planned a gentle kiss on his lips. "You're ridiculous." He said simply. "And I love you too, you big ball of sap."

And then they were kissing again, and God, when exactly did Bruce learn to do that because Tony has no idea but it was so good, Bruce's soft lips against his.

*

“I’m not sure what you two have pulled off here…” Fury said, frowning at the two of them as they sat sheepishly in his office. “But Mr Stark has retracted his previous decision regarding your fee status next year, Mr Banner. If you wish to stay on and study at Erskine on a full scholarship, you may. And Mr Stark, despite his threats to move you elsewhere for your senior year, I have persuaded your father that such academic upheaval at this point in your high school career could seriously jeopardise your chances of getting into MIT.”

“Thank you, sir.” They both knew that was total bullshit, but he appreciated Fury sticking his neck out to keep him at Erskine all the same.

“But now, of course, on to the real issue at hand.” He said with finality, and extracted a small folded photograph from the stacks of paper on his desk. Bruce flushed when he realised what it was. “You know the rules you are expected to uphold, and I think you are aware that underage drinking and throwing loud parties in the corridors do not adhere to those rules. However, in the circumstances, and given that there was real cause for celebration-“” Tony smirked; Fury hated the smug little shits over at Aequitas as much as he did. “- I’m going to let you off with a warning. But trust me, you do _not_ want to see the consequences if you pull something like this again, is that understood, Mr Stark?”

“Yes, sir.” He said, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

“Now as for this…” He turned to the photograph again, and gestured between them. “We enforce a curfew for several reasons, and one of them is to discourage… well…” Even Bruce was smirking now, seeing their usually unshakeable principal getting more and more flustered. “Anyway. I cannot bend the rules any more for you two than I already have, and I cannot in good conscience let you two continue sharing a room.”

“But-”

“Quiet, Mr Stark.” He said firmly, and Tony stopped his protests. “You will be swapping rooms with Mr Barton.”

Tony groaned. “Seriously? I have to room with _Steve_? Wait, how come Bruce gets to keep my room? That’s not fair, I was there first.”

“I said _quiet._ I expect you to move today. No arguments.”

As soon as they were out of Fury’s office, Bruce grinned. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“Better than expected? I have to share a room with _Steve._ The guy irons and folds his _socks_ , Bruce! How am I supposed to cope in that environment?” Tony whined, though he knew, deep down, that they wouldn’t be able to continue sharing a room. In fact, he was pretty sure that Howard had explicitly forbidden it in his conditions that Tony could return.

“Well, you don’t even wash yours, so maybe you can learn something.” Bruce grinned, shoving him playfully into the wall. “Sharing with Barton though. That could be… interesting.”

“I thought you guys were friends now.” Tony asked, frowning a little.

“Oh, we are.” Bruce confirmed hastily, seeing the expression on Tony’s face. “But our entire friendship is based on the premise that we both enjoy hitting things, so yeah. Interesting about sums it up.”

It wasn’t until they were almost back to their – or should he say Bruce’s – room that Tony caught sight of who he had been least wanting to see. “You cowardly little fucker-” he swore, as Loki spotted him too. He made a dash for his door, but Tony got there first and slammed him against it.

“Tony…” Bruce warned, placing a hand on his arm, and Tony nodded. He stepped back, and Loki laughed.

“Oh Stark, he has got you so whipped. I bet you’re the girl, aren’t you? I bet you love bending over and taking it like some cheap-” His words were interrupted by Bruce slamming a fist into Loki’s stomach, and he doubled over, gasping for breath, the smirk well and truly wiped from his face.

“Maybe if you spent more time getting a life, and less time trying to ruin everyone else’s, you wouldn’t be such a twisted little fuck.” Bruce spat angrily, looking quite like he wanted to punch him again. It was amazing how quickly he could go from calm to furious.

“Come on.” Tony said quietly. “Let’s just go. He’s really not worth it.” 

“And to think I was friends with that little worm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual you can find me on tumblr [here](http://isaac-laehey.tumblr.com).
> 
> Just two more chapters to go now. I'll try my best to get them out in the next two fortnights but like My Chemical Romance, The Doctor and many many others, I hate endings, and it's proving difficult to get all my babies to a place I'm happy with to close this up. 
> 
> Until next time, I thank you all for your support, it's been awesome. Seriously.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone in the UK/Europe because it's totally Sunday but I literally finished this chapter thirty seconds ago. Urgh. /Endings./ I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Totally rated E for naughty naughty bits this chapter wooo)

When he walked into breakfast the following morning, everyone fell silent and stared. Tony could feel the eyes on him as he walked to their table, which was situated conveniently as far as fucking possible away from the door. Once he’d sat down, the silence broke, replaced with under the breath murmurs and whispers, filling the air with a dull buzzing. “Has it been like this the whole time?” Tony wondered, glancing over his shoulder to a group of giggling freshmen girls who quickly averted their eyes.

Bruce snorted. “Of course it hasn’t. They’re only interested in you.”

Tony considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever. Anyone want any toast?” The eyes followed him again, and he’d had enough. “Look, I know my ass looks amazing in these trousers, but if you could stop staring, that would be nice. Thank you.”

The murmuring stopped, but normal conversation didn’t resume until Clint stole one of Thor’s five fried eggs and his cries of outrage broke the silence. “Tony-” A voice said from behind him, and he was about to flip his shit until he realised it was Pepper. “Hey, _boyfriend_.”

Tony grimaced. “I’m so sorry about that. Trust me, I had no idea he was going to stoop that low.”

“It’s cool.” She smiled, brushing her hair back behind her shoulder. “Urban Outfitters sent me a load of free stuff because they want me to be their new sponsor or something.” She took a slice of toast from his hand and took a bite. “Just so I know, is this a long term fake relationship? Because I will expect some form of compensation.” She tried to keep looking serious, but failed spectacularly.

“No, I’m planning to say very soon that we are just friends. Howard can deal with it.”

She raised a perfect eyebrow. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled by that.”

“He can deal with it.” Tony repeated, a smirk on his face. “Trust me.”

She followed him back to his table and sat in Clint’s temporarily vacated seat, much to his displeasure when he returned from replacing Thor’s egg, a petulant expression on his face. “Do I even want to know what you two did to make him let you come back?”

“Not really.”

Bruce grinned. “Essentially blackmail.”                         

She looked from Tony’s sheepish face to Bruce’s amused one, and shook her head. “You blackmailed one of the wealthiest men in America.”

“Yup.” Bruce said, popping the ‘p’. Pepper laughed, and reached over to give him a high five.

Tony couldn’t tell through Bruce’s letters whether he had been joking about him and Pepper becoming friends. He definitely liked that they were, because he couldn’t be dealing with any ex-girlfriend/ new boyfriend drama, but he also just couldn’t imagine the two of them sat watching chick flicks together. And Bruce and Clint – well, he had called that they’d suddenly realise they had a lot in common, but this was ridiculous. He wasn’t _jealous_ , he was just… well, jealous, that he’d been stuck in California while everyone else had been having fun without him. He felt completely out of the loop.

“Earth to Tony!” Bruce said, snapping his fingers in Tony’s face. “You still with us?”

He apologised hastily, and attempted to pay more attention to what everyone else was talking about, but he just couldn’t engage with Clint going on and on about how great the last party he’d thrown was. “So how are you and Natasha going?” He asked when there was a lull in the conversation, hoping to turn it into an equal opportunity to tease Barton. It worked. Clint flushed a deep red and murmured something nigh on unintelligible that Tony just managed to decipher as ‘We’re on a break.’. “Aw, come on, what happened?” He looked over his shoulder to where Romanoff was sitting with her back to them with a couple of other girls, and back at Clint.

“Nothing happened.” He said indignantly. “We just both mutually decided that-”

“Bullshit.” Bruce interrupted with an evil grin on his face. “She got  fed up with you treating her like a prize. Don’t even bother denying it, Clint.”

“Shut up, scholarship.”

Bruce just smiled serenely, not rising to the taunt at all. “We’re still doing the ‘scholarship’ thing? Really?”

“It’s that or ‘gay boy’.”

“Scholarship it is, then.”

“And besides,” Clint said, looking over to Natasha and smiling. “She’s going to take me back today. Not even Natasha will give up an opportunity to fuck in Tony Stark’s bed.”

*

It was amazing how, despite not being at school for the best part of two months, he didn’t seem to have missed anything. Everything was boring and shitty, and half of his teachers seemed to be treating him like he had some kind of infectious disease, which was lovely. Institutionalised homophobia. Nice.

He was greatly relieved when the final bell went and he hurried from his last period lesson, only to find Bruce waiting outside the classroom door. “We got let out early, so I thought I’d come and meet you.” He explained, then waited until the last person had exited the room. “Somehow I missed you more when I knew you were so close.”

Tony fake vomited down the stairs, and Bruce jabbed him hard in the ribs. “When did we get all cutesy and ridiculous?” He complained, a completely over-exaggerated scowl on his face.

“Since you dramatically announced that you love me and then romanced me into bed with some amazing, virginity shattering sex.” Bruce replied conversationally, causing a freshman hurrying down the stairs to get to dinner to stumble, miss two steps and fall flat on his face.

Tony could barely contain his laughter and Bruce shot him a disapproving look. “Are you okay?” He asked the kid gently, who just squeaked in response, blushing profusely, and practically ran into the cafeteria. “This school is so weird.”

“Well.” Tony grinned,  jumping down the last four steps and landing, unlike that freshman, perfectly on his feet, “You’re a celebrity now, Banner. Or at least, you will be, when this breaks.”

He snorted. “A Z-list celebrity, maybe.”

“Kim Kardashian was a Z-List celebrity and now look where she is!” Tony argued, kicking the cafeteria door open unceremoniously, scattering a small crowd. “A to Z in twenty six easy steps.”

“And a sex tape or two.” Bruce reminded him. “And I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to publically release footage of us fucking like rabbits so I can have a reality show or create my own fragrance or whatever.”

And of course you could practically see Clint’s ears twitch as he heard the phrase ‘fucking like rabbits’ as they sat down with their food. “Heeeeey lover boys.” He smirked. Bruce flipped him off and sat down next to him, nonchalantly stealing a fry from Barton’s plate, who protested in mock horror.

Okay, so their friendship was weird, even Tony could admit it. He was pretty sure he would have come out with broken fingers if he’d tried to steal food from Clint.

“Tony.” Thor said in a deadly serious tone, reaching his huge hand out to grasp Tony’s wrist in some weird, very _Thor -_ likegesture. “I want to apologise again for the actions of my brother.” He proclaimed far louder than was necessary, causing a multitude of heads around the room to turn in their direction. “My mother and father were furious and Luke has been suitably punished.” He informed Tony gravely. He couldn’t help look over to where Loki sat alone in his usual back corner table, looking even sulkier than usual. “You know that my family holds your father in high regard and – ”

“Okay Thor. Thank you.” He cut over him hurriedly, before the situation got any more embarrassing than it already was. “That means a lot. Seriously.”

Once they’d eaten and a few people Tony had never spoken to before had come over to say how glad they were that he was back, he turned to Bruce and, not even bothering to lower his voice, asked: “Want to go back up to our room?”

Bruce grimaced exaggeratedly, a mischievous look in his eye. “You know, I really do, except I don’t think Clint was joking about him and Nat fucking in your bed tonight. Maybe it would be best to leave them to it.”

Clint smirked at Tony and flicked his tongue out in a rather suggestive manner. Bruce mimed vomiting, but Tony was only slightly disturbed, and just tried not to think about it. “Then let’s fuck in Clint’s bed.” He replied, making a pointed effort to ignore Clint entirely – though he did get great satisfaction from Barton spitting a mouthful of water down his chin.

He was pretty sure he could get rid of Steve for the night, fob him off on Peggy or someone, and he just couldn’t bear Barton getting one over him. He’d go on about it forever, and he was pretty sure that Clint, as accepting as he was of him and Bruce, would be too keen on the idea of them having hot monkey butt sex in his super high thread count cotton sheets.

“What about Rogers?” Clint said weakly, wiping his mouth.

Tony shrugged. “What about Bruce?”

Barton’s eyes narrowed, but thankfully Steve jumped in before Clint could say anything offensive. “I can, uh… stay in Peggy’s room.”

Clint scowled and shovelled a handful of fries into his mouth, clearly about to settle in to a long, deep sulk. Tony grinned. “Coming Bruce?”

Bruce smirked at Clint as he stood up. “See you later.” But as Tony stood up, Bruce saw something and poked him in the ribs, indicating over his shoulder to where Peter Parker was struggling back through the doors, arms laden with about fifty thousand textbooks. “We should-”

“Yep.” Tony said, already totally on the same page. Grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he grinned back and said “Later, bitches.”

They hurried over to where the younger boy was attempting to hold the door open long enough t get through without the use of his hands. Bruce pushed it wide and Tony took the top half of the teetering tower from him, falling easy into step beside him. “Um.” He said, looking from one to the other, confused. “Welcome back?” He sounded nervous as he looked at Tony.

“Welcome back indeed.” He said gravely, kicking the door open to an empty classroom and dumping the pile of books unceremoniously. “Seriously kid, why do you even have this many textbooks?”

He shrugged, going a little red. “I like to read.” Tony laughed, unable to resist making the comparison between Parker and Bruce. Fucking nerds. “Did you want something?”

“We wanted to know if _you_ wanted anything.” Bruce said, interrupting before Tony could say something sarcastic. They were meant to be thanking him, after all. “We really appreciate what you did for us.”

“But I didn’t do anything.” Peter looked from Tony to Bruce and back to Tony again, desperately trying to see what the catch was. “I just pretended I was going to.”

“And it helped a lot.” Tony said impatiently. “God Parker, there’s no need to be so modest. What do you want? A new camera? I know you’ve been rabbiting on at Wilson about some new lens or something for about six months now.”

“I… I can’t… I couldn’t take-”

“Whatever _you_ want _._ ” Bruce said patiently. Tony wondered how he’d become the bad cop even when they were giving people free shit. “And feel free to ignore Tony, he communicates best through outrageously expensive gifts.” Tony glowered at Bruce, who blew him a kiss in response. He knew Bruce was just joking but it was kind of embarrassing how out of touch he was.

“Oh. Well. Um, maybe…”

“Spit it out, kid.”

“Could I maybe get some photos of you for my blog?” He said quickly, breaking eye contact and fascinating himself with a dark spot of old chewing gum trodden into the carpet. “They, uh… They always get a lot of views and-“

“Deal.” Tony said instantly. Parker looked up in surprise, clearing expecting Tony to turn him down. “In fact, I can do you one better. Photos, and the exclusive story that Pepper and I are _not_ together.” Tony said, holding out his hand. Both Bruce and Peter looked at him in surprise.

“Wait, what? Are you serious? But-”

“One hundred percent serious.” He said solemnly. Bruce looked very much like he wanted to interject, but Tony ignored him.  Peter looked at the outstretched hand in front of him sceptically, then just nodded and shook it. “Excellent. Just let me know when you want to do this, Parker.”

As soon as Peter had left, Bruce put his arm out to stop Tony following. “Is that a good idea?” He said warningly, clearly not agreeing so, but Tony ducked under it, scoffing.

“It’s a terrible idea Bruce, we both know that. But I’m not letting Howard win this one, and besides, it’s not fair on Pepper, and it’s not fair on you, to let him get away with lying to cover his own ass.” Bruce was half way between exasperated and flattered. “There’s no way I’m going to let him ruin what we have. We are entirely too awesome for that.”

*

They barely made it back to the room before they were kissing, Bruce’s cheeks warm as he cupped his face in his palms. It could have been desperate, longing, wanting, but it wasn’t. This wasn’t just some quickie; as long as Steve kept his word, and they both knew he’d be traumatised if he didn’t, they had the entire night to just be _together_. After kicking off their shoes, they collapsed on to Tony / Clint’s bed, barely allowing their lips to part. As they fell down, Bruce manoeuvred them so he was on top, straddling Tony’s thighs, and shushed his protestations. “Let me take care of you for a while.” He murmured, running a hand from Tony’s neck down his chest. Tony nodded silently, his head held up by a huge stack of pillows so that he could see Bruce without straining his neck.

Bruce started from the bottom button, teasing it open slowly and allowing his hands to explore the new expanses of skin it presented. The look on his face was like a kid at Christmas, and Tony flushed. No-one had ever looked at him like this. He felt like he was under scrutiny, but apparently Bruce liked what he saw as he kept undoing the buttons, one by one. When the shirt had fallen open entirely, a feat that took Bruce about ten minutes, he lowered his adorable curly head and bit Tony’s nipple lightly. “F-Fuck!”

Bruce lifted his head immediately. “Shit, did I hurt you? Did I bite too hard? I’m sorry Tony, I –”

“Stop apologising.” Tony growled, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt an undeniable twitch in his pants. “And do that again.”

Bruce grinned sheepishly, and took the pink bud back into his mouth, laving it gently with his tongue, before biting down firmly. Tony whimpered, the bulge in his pants surely noticeable to Bruce now. As if he had read his mind, he ground down on Tony’s crotch, smirking a little. “You like that, hmm?” Tony gasped as Bruce’s fingers brushed his nipple as he ground down again. “It sure sounds like you like that.”

Tony’s plan to tell Bruce to stop being such a tease was interrupted by Bruce stealing the words from his lips, kissing him until he couldn’t think straight. Bruce was firm, insistent but gentle, licking across his mouth, persuading Tony to part his lips. He obliged without hesitation, and Bruce took his time to explore every inch of his mouth until Tony was a whining, moaning mess pinned to the bed.

His fingers scrabbled at Bruce’s shirt in an attempt to undo the buttons, desperate to for him to be more naked, to feel the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. “You’re so sexy.” He murmured into Bruce’s lips, and he felt them turn up into a smirk.

“Oh? I could say the same about you.” He whispered into Tony’s ear, and he shuddered. Bruce laughed softly, and licked a stripe from Tony’s collar bone to his jaw. “Wanna give you a hickey.” He murmured, pressing his mouth, hot and wet, against the side of his neck.

Tony’s back arched off the bed, fucking his hips up, seeking some kind of friction. “P-Please!”

Bruce nipped at the skin playfully then swept his tongue across the red skin, winding Tony up until he wanted to scream. Who the fuck had taught Bruce to be such a tease because he wanted to kill them and also thank them profusely because holy fucking hell he was turned on right now. “Mine.” Bruce said possessively, then bit down on the soft flesh.

Tony whimpered Bruce’s name as he came hard in his pants. Bruce pulled away from his neck, pausing only to admire the red mark he’d left there, and bit his lip. “Did you just-”

“Um.” Tony said, flushing a deep red, but the wet spot soaking through his trousers said it all. “Jesus Christ. You’ve turned me into a thirteen year old who just discovered porn.”

Bruce clambered off looking plenty embarrassed himself. “That, uh… I didn’t mean to make you…” He looked weirdly uncomfortable, as if he felt guilty that he’d made Tony come. Which was stupid as hell, because despite the horrible sticky feeling around his crotch right now, he felt _awesome._ Tony shushed him, and dropping his pants, grabbed a wipe from his bedside table.

“I found them to be more effective than tissues.” He explained, trying to divert attention from his attempt at removing rapidly cooling come from his junk. “So I’m just going to abandon them for the rest of the evening.” He added conversationally, nodding towards the gross bundle of clothes he’d discarded to the corner. “Maybe you’d fancy joining me?” He shrugged his shirt off too, already hanging loose around his shoulders, and stood completely naked facing a pretty much totally dressed Bruce. “Please take your clothes off. This is weird.”

Bruce laughed and let his shirt drop to the floor too, then shucked off his trousers and underwear in one neat motion. He was sporting a boner the size of the fucking Empire State Building. “I feel really inadequate now.” Tony complained, resisting the urge to cover his limp dick with a t-shirt or something. “I was meant to be fucking you tonight.”

Bruce grinned impishly. “I'm sure we can think of something else to do instead.”

Tony's heart skipped about eight beats. He was pretty sure Bruce was suggesting that he.... _topped_. He bit his lip nervously, unsure why this idea scared him so much. It wasn't that he didn't trust Bruce; he did, he definitely did and besides, Bruce trusted him enough to let him fuck him. At some point, eventually, he wanted Bruce to make love to him, but… he wasn’t ready, and he had no idea why.

"You mean... You want to..." He gestured randomly between them, knowing his voice would give him away if he tried to verbalise the problem.

"No!" Bruce said hurriedly, blushing again. Sexytimes with Bruce seemed to be a constant rollercoaster, a pendulum oscillating between embarrassed adorable dork and ridiculously sexy adorable dork, with blushing a key component in the former. “I mean-” He added, suddenly realising what he’d said. “I do want to have s-sex with you, uh… that way. But I’m not… I don’t…”

Tony had never loved Bruce more than he did in that moment.

“It’s fine!” He said, cutting over Bruce’s increasingly flustered babbling. “We can wait, it’s fine!” He selfishly hoped the relief wasn’t too obvious on his face. “Maybe I could suck you off instead?” Bruce nodded, the relief _blatant_ on his. “Lie down on the bed, honey.” When Bruce had got comfortable, Tony settled himself between Bruce’s legs, attempting to work out the best way from this position to give an earth-shatteringly good blow job. He adjusted his body so he was lying flat on his stomach, his dick trapped awkwardly between his stomach and the mattress. He wrapped his fist around the base and dipped his head until his lips met his hand. Bruce whimpered above him. He stopped for a second so that he could lick the bead of pre-come from the head. God, Bruce tasted amazing.

He tangled one hand in Tony’s messy hair while the other tightened in the sheets as Tony drew off, dipping his tongue behind his balls and then lower, until Bruce froze, and Tony lifted his head. “Is this okay?” He asked quickly. “I’ve, uh… always wanted to try this.” Bruce seemed lost for words, but nodded quickly anyway. “If you hate it, tell me.” He said, then put his mouth back on his boyfriend eagerly.

He pressed his tongue flat against the tight pucker, and licked all the way back up to his balls, drawing a whine from Bruce as he blew cold air across his ass. Bruce didn’t taste bad, not at all. In fact, Tony kind of couldn’t get enough of it; it was just like _Bruce_ all over, but turned up to eleven. It was disturbingly intimate, and even his spent cock tried to respond, twitching a little against his stomach. Bruce gasped as Tony went to his hole again, mouth wide open and tongue lapping wetly over the fluttering muscle.  

“O-Oh God…” Bruce said, his voice cracking, and Tony pressed further into the warmth of Bruce’s ass, using his hands to give himself more space, holding the tight flesh apart. Tony planted kisses in every spot that he could reach, dragging his tongue down Bruce’s crack a couple of times until it was glistening wet.

He _wasn’t_ stalling.

“C’mon-” Bruce moaned, his cock leaking a pool of pre-come on to his stomach.

When Tony finally pressed the tip of his tongue against the rim and pushed inside, he felt it  _everywhere_ _._ Bruce was so fucking _hot_ , literally and aesthetically and in every other damn way possible. The tightness was unimaginable around his tongue, the wet heat far more intense than it was around fingers. He flicked his tongue experimentally, pushing it deeper inside with each thrust, swirling it around and earning himself a couple of very satisfying moans and gasps from Bruce above him. He moved his mouth away to wet his finger and Bruce whined at the loss of feeling, but Tony shushed him as he slid his finger in, rejoined quickly by his tongue. He couldn’t move it that much because the angle was super awkward, but Bruce didn’t seem to care judging by the streams of curse words falling from his lips.

He reached for Bruce’s dick, cupping his balls in his hand for a moment before stroking at the same pace that his tongue was thrusting. It wasn’t long until Bruce’s balls began to tighten, Tony’s tongue and hand working furiously to bring him to the edge, and he tipped, coming over Tony’s fist hard, his name repeated amongst a babble of nonsense and swearing. His back was arched and his head was pressed into the pillow and God, his boyfriend looked _obscene_.

“That was…” Bruce said once he’d recovered his breath and power of rational thought. “Fuck, I love you. And your mouth. And the things your mouth does to my ass.”

By the time they had returned from a perilous mission to get showered and cleaned up in a communal bathroom without anyone seeing them, they collapsed back on to the bed, sated and damp and warm and stupidly in love. Tony glanced at the display on his phone – it was barely nine. “So, uh… What now?”

Bruce smiled, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. “I think we should spend the rest of the evening watching dumb movies and making out.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just one chapter left now which shall be an epilogue of sorts, I think. Should definitely be up by two weeks but if it's done sooner I'll post it sooner! Some time in the next week or so I'm going to post the first chapter of a mini multichapter fic thing (nothing like this kind of length) - basic plot? Tony is a university lecturer. Bruce is one of his students. Bruce also happens to work at a phone sex line. Predictably, shenanigans ensues. Very very E rated shenanigans. So yeah, keep your eyes peeled for that!
> 
> As usual, you can follow me on tumblr [here](http://isaac-laehey.tumblr.com).
> 
> See you around! <3


	18. Epilogue - Six Months Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY IT'S SO LATE AS I SAID I HATE ENDINGS
> 
> Gonna have an emo rant at the end so for now I hope you enjoy it!

EPILOGUE – SIX MONTHS LATER

“Bruce!” Tony screamed, sprinting down the corridor and clutching a towel desperately around his waist. “Bruce, open the damn door!” But there was no response from the other side, and Tony knew he was doomed. He turned his back against Bruce’s door, just as Pepper and Natasha emerged from the bathroom, shit eating grins spread across their faces and each with a large bag of flour in each hand. “Come on, guys…” He said weakly, looking from one to the other. “Can’t we talk about this?”

Pepper paused, as if she was deeply considering his suggestion, before smirking. “Nope.”

“I swear, it wasn’t even me!” He pleaded, eyeing the bags with trepidation. His skin was damp from the shower and that shit was going to get everywhere, and he knew they wouldn’t be sticking around to clean it up.

“Oh, we know.” Natasha smiled dangerously, stepping ever closer. Her and Pepper had got this terrifying double act thing down to a tee – Tony swore they must rehearse or something before they go anywhere. “TP-ing our room? Only Barton is immature enough to actually carry out a prank that clichéd.”

Tony had pointed out as much himself, but he decided not to mention it. Natasha and Clint had managed a whole three months without a serious break up, yet the time was littered with the casualties of the near constant prank war that had been going on for just as long. It was the weirdest form of flirting Tony had ever seen. “So why are you coming after me?”

“Because then you have more motivation to persuade Clint to surrender, _obviously_.”

Tony scowled. “Fine. I’d hold my hands up in surrender, but you know…” He nodded down to where one hand held on to the stupidly small towel. “I don’t think you’d fully appreciate the view.”

The girls ignored him. “Three…” Pepper was unable to hold back her laughter.

“Two…” Natasha added, and Tony tried to shoot them both glares so evil they would be stopped in their tracks. It didn’t work.

“ONE!” They said together, and with peals of laughter, threw the contents of the bags at Tony. The air exploded in a cloud of fine white dust, which proceeded to stick to every exposed inch of his body. By the time it had settled enough for Pepper and Tasha to see him again, he covered in it from head to toe, and it was starting to form clumps in his hair.

“I hate you.” He deadpanned. “Now can I have my room key back?”

“I guess that depends…” Pepper paused dramatically, and Tony rolled his eyes. “On what you’re going to give me in return.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Pepper and Natasha span around guiltily, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief. Bruce had arrived in the scene, looking like he half wanted to laugh and half wanted to act all prefectly and yell at them. No one bothered to answer, since the scene pretty much explained itself, except why this had all taken place outside his bedroom door. “You're all idiots. And you will all be cleaning this up or I'll take it to Fury.”

Tony cursed Bruce's honour. He was pretty sure that Bruce being made prefect basically gave him free reign to do whatever he wanted, but he seemed to be taking it even more seriously than Phil did. “But-” he started, grinding swiftly to a halt when he saw the withering look on his face. “God, what happened to giving me favouritism?” He grumbled.

Bruce ignored him. “You give him his key and you go take a shower. Pepper and Natasha, cleaning supplies are in the third door down.”

Tony grinned, an eyebrow quirking suggestively. “I love it when you get all authoritative.” Bruce, to Tony's delight, flushed a deep red, and shut himself in his room.

Over an hour later, Tony banged on the door, and Bruce opened it, smirking. “Have fun?”

“I fucking hate you.” He moaned. “Do you know how fucking hard it is to get flour out of a carpet?”

“Nope.” Bruce said, not even bothering to disguise how entertaining he found the whole situation as he sat down cross legged on his bed. “And you know what? I really don't care.”

Tony pouted, lying across Bruce's bed so his head was resting in his lap. “You know, I think all that prefect power is going to your head.” He joked. Bruce had freaked out for like a week before telling Tony that he was being made a prefect, expecting Tony to be angry or jealous, but Tony had never expected to be given the dubious honour, and would have been horrified if he had. That Fury was willing to piss Howard off immensely in the process only added to Tony's happiness that he'd given the role to Bruce.

“I'm just trying to be responsible.” He said, and Tony laughed. Case in point. It was unbelievable, the differences between them, yet it was even more unbelievable how much sense they made together. Everyone had got used to them with remarkable aplomb, other than a few assholes like Loki, or General Ross, who made his disgust quite apparent and forbade them to ever even sit next to each other in their Chemistry lessons. Institutionalised homophobia aside, everything was awesome.

Other than the impending doom that was college, that is.

They hadn't talked about it yet, but Tony was dreading it. His dream was MIT - it had been for as long as he could remember. Bruce only talked about Caltech. Tony wasn't sure you could find two colleges further apart while remaining in the continental U.S. His heart told him he'd follow Bruce to California. His head told him that was fucking stupid. He couldn't decide, and he couldn't expect Bruce to, but he couldn't shake the feeling that being three thousand miles away would effectively nail the coffin shut on their relationship. Which he really didn't want.

“You okay?” Bruce asked, which made Tony realise he'd been staring into blank space for at least a minute.

“Just thinking.” He said quietly. “About next year.”

“Oh.” Bruce said, the smile dropping from his face. “Right.”

Tony grimaced, really wishing they didn't have to talk about it, but... “I don't want us to have to break up.” He started. God this would be so much easier if Bruce wasn’t subconsciously playing with his hair right now. “But I don't think we could make it work long distance.”

Bruce frowned, his fingers stopping. “Who said anything about long distance?”

Tony sat up in surprise. “But you... You want to go to Caltech, right?”

Bruce shrugged. “That was before I met you. MIT have an amazing physics department and-”

“No. You're not giving up your dreams because of me. It's not fair, it'll lead to resentment and arguments and a messy, messy breakup.”

Bruce burst out laughing. “You watch too much daytime TV. The reason I wanted to go to Caltech was because I could live at home. My dad isn't going to give me any money for college, but with a scholarship and a mountain of debt, I might have been able to scrape by.”

“And now?” Tony asked.

“Now I have a hot sugar daddy boyfriend who I'm hoping might want to split the rent with me. At MIT. Which is the second best university in the world and one that I would more than happily attend if they want me on their scholarship programme.”

“So that's why you're dating me.” Tony grinned, ignoring his racing heart beat. “For financial gain. I get it now.”

“No, this is why I'm dating you, idiot.” Bruce grinned, then pulled him in for a kiss.

“Good to know.” Tony grinned, feeling stupidly happy. “Take a couple of days to think about it though.” Bruce nodded, but rolled his eyes at the same time, and Tony didn't miss it. “I'm serious. This has to be your decision.”

Bruce smiled. “I'll consider it from every angle, sweetie.”

Tony knew Bruce was teasing him, but he also knew Bruce was too smart to follow him blindly without thinking about his own life too.

“You should go.” Bruce said finally, sitting up. “It's past the curfew.”

“But Bruce...” Tony said, feigning fear. “If I get caught in the corridors after curfew, I'll get in trouble!”

“Oh yeah?” Bruce said, humouring him. “With who?”

“This horrible prefect on my floor. Word has it he likes to give out spankings to people who stay out late.”

Bruce struggled to contain his grin. “Spankings, you say?” Tony nodded gravely. “You'd better stay here then.”

Tony praised the Lord - or thanked Nick Fury - that Bruce was a prefect; they got single rooms.

*

“So I've thought about it.” Bruce said after Tony's required couple of days had passed. “And this is my conclusion.” He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. There were four boxes: Caltech Pros, Caltech Cons, MIT Pros, MIT Cons. Two of them were pretty much empty, and two of them were crammed full of Bruce's ridiculously tiny writing.

“Come on Bruce, that's not a real consideration.” He protested.

“No look, Caltech pros - sunshine. It has a pro.”

Tony grabbed it and read from the significantly more full Caltech Cons box - “‘I get sunburnt easily.’ Bruce, you’re not taking this seriously.”

Bruce slammed the sheet down on to the desk and turned to Tony, suddenly looking annoyed. “Why are you being so difficult? I don’t _want_ to go to Caltech, I don’t _want_ to be near my father, I don’t _want_ to be alone. I want to be with you at MIT, that’s it. I don’t need to think about it anymore, and if you keep acting like you’re forcing me to do something I don’t want to do, I’m going to get seriously pissed off.”

If Tony had ever had any doubts as to Bruce’s feelings, they had been eliminated by the emotion causing Bruce’s voice to shake uncontrollably. He hadn’t seen Bruce this angry in a long time, and it made Tony weirdly yet unbelievably happy. A small smile broke across his face, unable to contain it. Bruce flipped. “You think this is fucking funny?” Tony answered by cupping Bruce’s cheek with one palm and kissing him softly without saying a word. Bruce froze in shock momentarily, but soon recovered, giving Tony a twinge of regret that they didn’t fight more often because god _damn_ , this was even more fun when they were mad.

“You mean it?” Tony said quietly when Bruce eventually pulled away, trying really hard to still look annoyed. “You actually really do want to go to MIT?” Bruce rolled his eyes but didn’t respond further. “Like, you actually want to go to college with me?”

“And live with you and have sex with you and fight with you and get a dog with you and maybe even marry you someday, if you’re really lucky. Yes.”

Tony blinked in surprise. He couldn’t say he’d thought that far ahead, but neither was he able to consider a future that didn’t have Bruce in it. He guessed they were stuck with each other for ever, and he was totally okay with that. “There’s no way we’re getting a dog. They’re needy and they slobber everywhere.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a cat person.” Bruce accused in mock horror, then laughed, but Tony knew he’d noticed his moment of surprise.      

“Cats are fabulous and you don’t have to take them for walks.” Tony argued, and even Bruce had to admit that was a fair point. “You, uh… You really want to marry me?” He said after a short silence, attempting to not make it sound like that was the complete opposite to what he wanted. Because he definitely wanted it. A lot.

“Yeah, I do.” Bruce said simply. “I mean, not now, obviously, but one day, yeah.” He flushed a little but he didn’t break eye contact, and Tony felt like the luckiest person to ever walk the fucking earth.

“So did you just kind of propose?”

“I guess you’re just going to have to wait and see.”

*

So Tony waited. He waited six years, five months and nineteen days, to be exact. He waited through both of them graduating from MIT top of their respective fields, and through Bruce starting a PhD and himself starting his own company from scratch. He waited through uncountable stupid fights and some really great make up sex, and even through Bruce persuading him to get a fucking dog (who he adored, though he’d never admit it).

He waited so long that he almost thought that maybe Bruce had forgotten, except that he was pretty sure that in all the time they had known each other, Bruce had never, ever forgotten anything. So he was patient; when Bruce thought they were ready, he’d ask.

“Dr. Banner requires your assistance in his laboratory, Sir.” JARVIS said coolly, making Tony jump. He’d worked the AI into their new place with few problems, but Tony didn’t imagine he’d be as intelligent as he was. Bruce, who claimed to know nothing about computers, gave him some great ideas and some even more valuable assistance, and as a result, JARVIS was far more independent than Tony had thought even possible. Tony found it hilarious that his laziness was revolutionising modern computing.

He hurried downstairs to the lab he’d set up just for Bruce’s use, filled with the best equipment money could buy, to where the scientist was standing next to a small metal cylinder that Tony didn’t question. “You needed a hand?” He said conversationally, and Bruce nodded.

“Two man job, and everyone else has gone home.”

No wonder really, since Tony’s watch read 4.18am. “What do you need me to do?” Bruce pointed towards a box of grey metal strips that Tony recognised as palladium, and instructed him to slowly drop them into the machine. Tony had no idea what Bruce was up to; he could barely keep track of his own research let alone Bruce’s too, but he did what he was told, trying not to let his curiosity get the better of him.  Bruce stood by his computer, typing furiously and occasionally looking up at the machine whirring by Tony’s head.

A couple of minutes later, the typing ceased, and Bruce gave him a nervous smile, which did not give Tony a lot of hope. “Lift that catch there.” Bruce instructed.

“This isn’t going to blow me up, is it?”

Bruce shook his head, and Tony flicked the catch, wondering what exactly he was letting himself in for. A stream of molten palladium ran from the machine at Tony’s end to a small disk at Bruce’s. He was kind of disappointed; he was expecting something vaguely cool, at least. “Uh, what was this actually for?”

“You’ll see.” Bruce said lightly, lifting the disk carefully with tongs and plunging it into a bucket of water. Tony was all for random science activities but he really wasn’t seeing the point here.

“Like, did you really need me here? I’m pretty sure Dum-E could have pulled that lever f-.” Tony froze mid-sentence as he saw Bruce getting down on one knee, the small piece of metal clutched in his hand. “Oh my god.” Tony said blankly, looking from Bruce to the machine to what he now knew was the fucking engagement ring.

“Tony, I-”

“Holy fucking shit.” He blurted, unable to help himself. There had been so many moments when he’d thought that many Bruce might propose, but this was not one of them. Bruce laughed, and Tony mimed zipping his lips.

“I’m not good at speeches or like, talking, so I just want to say… You’re a fucking idiot, and I love you.” Tony snorted. “Will you marry me?”

There were _not_ tears in Tony’s eyes, he swore on his life. “That was beautiful, Bruce. Yes, of course I’ll fucking marry you.” He managed to maintain his patience just long enough for Bruce to get the ring on his finger, which fit surprisingly well since he’d literally just made it with science. Best. Proposal. Ever. He helped Bruce to his feet and pulled him into a kiss, murmuring “I love you too.” against his lips. “Why now?” He asked when they parted, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face.

“Because I thought we could do with the tax breaks.”  

Tony laughed, and realised what a stupid question it was. It didn’t matter when or how or why or where – they could get married in a Walmart parking lot for all Tony cared. All that mattered was that after seven years, _they were getting married._ All that mattered was them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh god.
> 
> I want to say thank you to [Moby](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Moby) for not only encouraging me to start writing this (over two years ago! eek!) but also indirectly making me want to finish it after a year of untouched hiatus. No matter what happens, I'd like to think Science Boyfs will always be our thing. And in five years time, when /that fic/ updates, you know I'll think of you when I _don't_ read it. 
> 
> And I want to say thank you to everyone who has looked at, read, kudos, commented and hounded me to update this fic. I love every single one of you, and it means so much that you've stuck with me on this weird journey. I feel like my writing has grown a lot since I started this, so congratulations for sticking through the dodgy first couple of chapters. It's certainly been an experience, and since I started writing fanfiction nearly four years ago, this is the first multichapter I've ever finished. I know. I'm a slave to one shots or abandoned multis. BUT NOT THIS TIME. So thank you for the amazing encouragement you guys have given me.
> 
> Finally, a bit of a plug for a slightly smaller project - my new fic, [Call Me Maybe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658305/chapters/5940872), full of confusion and E rated goodness (and phone sex). It's just a bit of fun while I work out what I want to do next <3
> 
> And of course, as usual, follow me on tumblr [here](http://isaac-laehey.tumblr.com). I love to hear from you guys.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the last chapter/ the whole of this fic, and I will see you around soon <3
> 
> Love, Checkmate


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